Love Endures
by Guin Parris
Summary: Pharazphel is a daughter of Rohan. Boromir is a son of Gondor. Despite their coming from different worlds, the two have more in common than they know and a love that will be tested as Sauron returns.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1: The Golden Daughter

Love has been made to endure many things. Time and fate is always a great test to love. The love between two peoples has endured many things from time to peril.

It began in the days after the finding of the One Ring by Isildur, the High King of Gondor. Thousands of years since the slaying of the High King, there had been whispers of a new fear growing in the world. In those times, Men were left divided and leaderless. In the land of Gondor, the line of Kings was broken leaving the stewardship of lesser men to govern the people until the crowning of Isildur's heir.

In the kingdom of Rohan, there was a growing darkness that none could understand. The whispers of an unknown evil and of "Isildur's Bane" had reached the ears of the people of Rohan and Gondor.

During this time, there was at least one glimmer of hope in the continuing of the race of Men. A young and strong-willed woman of Rohan left her home. Her name was Pharazpher, daughter of Gimilphel. She had found love with Urithor of Gondor, a valiant soldier. Though they were from two different worlds, both of them had a deep bond between them. Urithor loved Pharazpher for her sturdy spirit and her belief in hope which had long abandoned Gondor. Pharazpher had loved Urithor for his strength and wisdom as well as his kindness. In the Spring of the year 2976 of the Third Age, Pharazpher and Urithor were wed and dwelt in Gondor. In the months that followed, their hope was kindled.

In the winter of 2976, Pharazpher and Urithor were about to welcome a child. Just as hope came to the loving couple, tragedy seemed to follow hand-in-hand.

Pharazpher was due to give birth to her child and her husband was not by her side. The pain of the child's coming was nearly unbearable, but a welcome pain for Pharazpher. Without her husband, Pharazpher did not know if she could endure.

"You have to push soon, lady," the midwife said urgently.

"Please, where is my husband?" Pharazpher begged, her voice filled with pain. "My husband should be with me and our child."

"Begging your pardon, ma'am, but that matters not," the midwife said sternly. "What matters now is ensuring the birth of a healthy child as well as your own health."

"Please, I must wait a moment more. Just one moment more!" Pharazpher pleaded.

"I am sorry, miss, but you must push now, or there's no hope in the health of your child," the midwife told her.

Unwilling to harm her child, Pharazpher began to push. The pain was greater than any torture of the Dark Days, but yet she was willing to endure it.

"Very good, miss. Try again," the midwife said confidently.

Pharazpher continued to push and cry out to combat the pain, and the midwife praised her efforts. No matter how much the midwife cheered her on, it did little to neither comfort Pharazpher nor ease her pain. Pharazpher's worries about her husband continued to grow with every push.

_Urithor, where are you? _she thought anxiously.

As her labor continued, Pharazpher cried out her husband's name. "Urithor!"

Her cries were in vain as her husband never appeared at her side. By night on that day, Pharazpher finally heard the loud cries of her child.

"It is a girl, miss," the midwife said proudly.

The midwife swaddled the baby girl in a cloth and placed her in the arms of Pharazpher. Pharazpher gazed upon her daughter with great love and joy. Her heart was lightened and she felt a new strength grow in her.

"She is beautiful," she sighed.

"Indeed, she is a fair maiden," the midwife agreed. "She is quite as strong as you are."

The girl gripped Pharazpher's finger tightly and her mother laughed. "Yes, she has the strength of me and her father already."

"What will you name her?" the midwife asked.

Pharazpher gazed at the child for a long moment. She looked as if she could find a name from her baby's eyes.

After a long moment, she smiled. "I will name her Pharazphel, daughter of Pharazpher and Urithor."

The midwife beamed. "It is a pretty name. What does it mean?"

"It is Adunaic for golden daughter. My daughter is precious to me, so she will be my golden daughter," Pharazpher explained as she grinned at her dozing baby.

Just then, there was a loud knock on the door. Pharazpher's heart leapt with hope.

"That must be my husband here to see his new daughter!" she said happily.

The midwife raced to the door and opened it. To her dismay as well as Pharazpher's, it was not Urithor, but only a messenger. The messenger did not speak, and only gave the midwife a piece of paper. The midwife read the paper to herself and her face fell.

"What is it? Where is Urithor?" Pharazpher asked, her fear rising.

The midwife could say nothing.

"Tell me! Where is my husband?" Pharazpher cried, causing her child to cry.

"You have endured a great deal tonight. You need rest," the midwife said dismissively.

"As long as I do not know where my husband is, I will not have rest. Tell me where Urithor is," Pharazpher demanded, quieting her daughter.

The midwife did not speak, but handed Pharazpher the parchment. Pharazpher snatched it and read it to herself. As soon as she did so, her eyes seemed to turn to glass and coldness grew over her. The only sound that could be heard was the paper fluttering to the floor.

"This day has been cursed," Pharazpher said. "My husband is dead."

Pharazpher gazed upon her daughter with great sadness, but she could not bear to let tears fall in the presence of her child. She tried to hold on to the joy of her daughter's birth in order to outweigh the bitterness of losing her husband and Pharazphel's father. All the hope that Pharazpher had left was in her golden daughter.

"I will always be with you, my daughter," she whispered. "I will give you my strength, my beloved Pharazphel."


	2. The Sons of the Steward

Chapter 2: The Sons of the Steward

There had been no hope for Men since the passing of Isildur. The world of Men was left in doubt and growing darkness. The line of kings had been broken many years ago. In the land of Gondor, the darkness was the greatest.

The Dark Lord Sauron bordered Gondor to the east. For many years his realm lay quiet after his defeat at the hands of Isildur. Then, great, black clouds began to cover the skies of Mordor. It was at last that Mount Doom burst forth with a new life. There was also a beacon: a fiery eye watching the border. It was the Eye of Sauron.

The Men of Gondor began to despair. The Dark Lord had returned to cover the world in darkness again, as he did hundreds of years before. Adding to the despair was the empty throne of Gondor. There had not been a king since the days of old. Thus, the leadership of Gondor was left to the Stewards, caretakers for the throne.

In the days of old, stewards were once great examples of Men. The ruled the city with strength and wisdom. It wasn't until the return of Lord Sauron that the stewards began to despair. The once magnificent men gave into fear. Thus the rule of Gondor was given to lesser men.

Not only did the rulers of Gondor begin to despair, but all that grew and lived. The city became grey as the skies above it. The greatest loss was the White Tree of Gondor. In Minas Tirith, the White Tree was the tree of the King. During the days of the kings, the White Tree flowered gloriously. It wasn't until after the slaying of Isildur that the tree withered. Not long after, the White Tree died and bloomed no more.

Yet a small glimmer of hope remained among the people of Gondor. The return of Sauron had not completely diminished their spirits. They still had some hope that they would defeat the Dark Lord just as he had been defeated before. Not even the darkening skies could dampen the spirits of the people.

The hope of Gondor was also great in their hope for a king. The people of Gondor awaited the return of their king for many years. They longed for the day when Isildur's Heir would be crowned. They yearned to have sanity and compassion in the stewards again.

The people of Gondor had so much hope that they guarded the White Tree. The Tree's death did not matter to those who guarded it. What mattered to them was the belief that it would one day live again. That is the belief that urged the people on during those many years.

The Steward in this time was Denethor, son of Ecthelion. Denethor was a wizened figure of a man, but still lordly. He had hair of silver like that which decorated the White Tower. Denethor was a strong, hard man like the stone of his city. The darkness had not diminished his hope. He was still a proud man in those days.

In the year 2970, Denethor had not been named steward, but his father, Ecthelion had the title. It was then that Denethor met and fell in love with a woman named Finduilas. For six years after that, they courted.

It was not until then that Denethor asked his love what was in his heart. "Finduilas, you know I love you, do you not?"

"I knew that many years ago, my love," Finduilas said lovingly.

"You know that I am not a glorious king like the kings of old," Denethor said solemnly.

"I know, but I care not," Finduilas said, "You are as lordly as a great King of Men."

"I may not be a king, but I would certainly feel like one if you would take my hand in marriage," Denethor said tenderly.

Finduilas could say nothing. Denethor's tender words touched the very center of not only her heart, but her soul.

"Well, will you have me?" Denethor asked anxiously.

"Whether you are a great king or not, I will wed with Denethor son of Ecthelion," Finduilas said merrily.

Thus it was in the year 2976 of the Third Age, Denethor and Finduilas were wed. For many years, the couple remained in bliss despite the coming of Lord Sauron. Two years later, the couple was blessed again.

"Denethor, my love, it seems that we have been granted a miracle," Finduilas said merrily.

"What is this miracle you speak of?" Denethor asked.

"We have been blessed with a child," Finduilas said, her as glimmering as bright as the White Tower.

In 2978 of the Third Age, Finduilas gave birth to her first child with Denethor. The labor was long and arduous, lasting into the hours of the night. Finduilas never faltered and Denethor was by her side all through the night. Finally, a child's cry flooded the room.

The exhausted Finduilas held her new child in her arms.

Denethor beamed. "You have a greater strength than any soldier of Gondor, my love. You have done well."

"Denethor, we have a son," Finduilas sighed.

Denethor's proud smile widened. "He is a strong son of Gondor. He will make a great Steward one day, I can see."

"What will be his name?" Finduilas asked.

"We shall name him Boromir, son of Denethor," Denethor declared. "A strong name for a strong child."

Boromir was indeed a strong child. He grew in wisdom and strength. Denethor took great pride in his son.

"I foresee that he will be destined for greatness," Denethor said proudly.

Two years later, Denethor and Finduilas were given another son. His name was Faramir, son of Denethor.

Denethor loved both of his sons and had saw both of them becoming men of wisdom and strength.

Unfortunately, all good things do have an end. Finduilas had been greatly weary since the birth of Faramir. She began to feel her few years bearing down on her. She had contracted an illness that brought despair to Denethor as well as Boromir and Faramir, who were only children. To their great sadness, Finduilas died at so young an age.

Denethor's despair was unfathomable. No one, not even his sons, could bring him comfort. He had already lost his father and became Steward years before.

It was then that Denethor began to despair in the return of Lord Sauron. He had changed from a wise, strong man to a man living in fear and without reason. The weight of the Dark Lord's influence began to bear down on him.

Not only did Denethor suffer from himself, but his children suffered. They had seen their father's despair and it dampened their spirits as well. When Boromir and Faramir were in their teenage years, both were instructed as warriors. Boromir never ceased to please his father with his strength and skill. Faramir seemed to go unnoticed.

Denethor began to love his firstborn more than Faramir, it seemed. Whatever great deeds Faramir had done did not please Denethor. Boromir always gave his father pleasure no matter what he did. Denethor had also grown annoyed that Faramir learned from the wizard Gandalf the Grey.

While Boromir and Faramir hunted, both men succeeded in catching their prey. When they returned to their father, Denethor had nothing but praise for Boromir.

"My son, it seems you are the most skilled hunter in Gondor," Denethor boasted.

"Father, you exaggerate," Boromir said humbly. "The true victory belongs to Faramir. Without him, our prey would have escaped."

Denethor frowned. "And what would a wizard's pupil know in the ways of the hunt?"

"Have I displeased you, Father?" Faramir asked.

"How can I be pleased when my son learns from a wizard?" Denethor demanded.

"I do not mean to displease you, Father," Faramir said.

"You never intend to displease me, but you never intended to please me," Denethor countered.

Faramir did not say a word. Tears seemed to glisten in his eyes at his father's words.

"Father, please!" Boromir pleaded.

Denethor turned and left without saying another word.

"What have I done to displease him, brother?" Faramir asked solemnly.

"You have done nothing of the sort, little brother," Boromir comforted. "You are much stronger and wiser than I am."

"Then why doesn't Father see it?" Faramir asked dubiously.

"Father does see it, even if he is too proud to admit it," Boromir countered. "He loves us both. He will remember that one day."


	3. Family Love

Chapter 3: Family Love

Faramir trusted his brother, but he was not sure if Boromir's words were true. He so wanted to believe that their father would remember he loved them both, but he never believed that day would come.

"Do you really think Father will forgive me?" Faramir asked dubiously.

"Forgive you? For what?" Boromir asked.

"Whatever offences I have made against him," Faramir replied simply.

"Little brother, there is nothing to forgive," Boromir said.

"But there must be something I've done to make Father ill towards me," Faramir said, guilt in his voice.

"No, there is nothing you have done, little brother," Boromir reassured him. "You are a wise, valiant son of Gondor. You have nothing to apologize for."

"That has escaped Father's notice," Faramir said glumly.

"No, it has not," Boromir said.

"Yes, it has, or he would love me as much as he loves you," Faramir said.

"Father loves us both. He simply must remember that, but I assure you he will," Boromir comforted.

"I don't see why he has to remember that he loves us," Faramir said bitterly.

Boromir sighed. "I don't know either, little brother. I think Father does not mean to forget that he loves you and once he remembers that, he won't forget again."

"I pray he does," Faramir said.

Boromir patted his brother on the shoulder. "Come on, victorious hunter. Let's get moving before we're overwhelmed by hunger."

"I thought it was clear that you were the mighty hunter," Faramir said gloomily.

"I said that Father exaggerates," Boromir replied with a smile. "He was not there, and he did not see that you were the victorious one."

In the following years, Boromir and Faramir had grown into wise, strong examples of men in Gondor. Boromir proved to be quite the imposing general in Gondor. With the impending peril from the black land of Mordor, Boromir fought back the danger courageously. It was said that under his command, the army of Gondor made the evil in Mordor pause. Faramir was also a formidable captain, but he was a gentler spirit than his brother. He had the wisdom that aided the army of Gondor in times of great peril. Both brothers made an imposing force in Gondor with their skills and strength.

Unfortunately, Faramir's hope that Denethor would remember his love did not come to be in those years. In the next short years, Faramir continued to escape his father's notice. Boromir was the only true hero to Denethor, and Faramir was no more than a gentle student of Gandalf the Grey.

It was true that Boromir was always the warrior. He was a tall, formidable figure of a man. He and Denethor were also very much alike. Both were stubborn men who had desperately sought to protect their country. Faramir was an excellent captain, but only at great need. He was a gentler than Boromir as well as wiser at times. Faramir also had more love of music and lore than Boromir. Thus, Denethor thought his youngest son less worthy, and at times, a weak man.

One day, the eastern skies became as black as the abyss. Neither the stars nor the moon could not be seen. The only light in the sky seemed to come from the fiery explosions of Mount Doom. There was also another light. This light came from an ever watchful eye, covered in flame. The Eye of Sauron turned its gaze to the West. Sauron had returned, and he sought to first exterminate the world of Men.

Boromir and Faramir had seen that Sauron targeted Gondor. They knew that war would soon follow. Both of them were quick to share this news with Denethor.

"Father, a great darkness lies to the East," Boromir said urgently. "The skies are blackening and there is an eye fixed upon us."

Denethor could say nothing.

"Father, Sauron the Deceiver has returned," Faramir said. "His Eye is fixed upon Gondor. He seeks to eliminate us."

"Do not insult me further for thinking me a blind man," Denethor snarled. "I have seen Sauron's return. I know he seeks to destroy us."

"We must prepare the defenses against the armies of Mordor," Faramir said.

Denethor laughed bitterly. "Is this how the wizard's pupil seeks to show his quality? What would a wizard's pupil know of war?"

"Father, Faramir has Gondor's need at heart as much as you and I," Boromir said firmly.

"If your brother had Gondor's need at heart, he would be a warrior as you are, not a student to a wizard," Denethor argued.

"Father, I would gladly fight and give my life for Gondor," Faramir said in earnest.

"And you would believe that dying for Gondor would make you a hero?" Denethor asked dubiously.

"I do not seek to be a hero, just to do my duty," Faramir said softly.

"You seek for a chance to show your quality to me," Denethor told him. "If you were to give your life for Gondor, the manner of your death would decide your quality."

Faramir and Boromir were shaken. Both of them could not believe their father's carelessness for Faramir.

"Father, please," Boromir pleaded. "Faramir is only doing what a man of Gondor is charged to do."

"I trust the defense of this city only to you, not to your brother," Denethor said coldly.

"And why is that?" Boromir demanded.

"Because I know that you will not fail me," Denethor said, his voice like stone.

There was a silence again. Boromir was not pleased by his father's behavior. He knew Faramir was a great warrior, and he could not believe Denethor's cruelty.

Finally, Boromir spoke. "We will do what we can for Gondor."

Both brothers bowed to their father and quitted the throne room. Faramir did not speak a word. He was truly shaken by the sternness of his father's words. Faramir believed that nothing he ever did would please his father.

Boromir put a comforting arm on his brother's shoulder. "Do not dwell on Father's words. You are the most formidable man in Gondor."

"All I want is for Father to love me," Faramir said glumly. "Why doesn't he love me?"

"Father loves us both," Boromir said gently. "It may be years before he admits it, but he loves us."

"I certainly hope that Father remembers he loves me if I die," Faramir said gloomily.

"Do not be so gloomy, little brother," Boromir said brightly. "You will live through this peril. Father will certainly remember he loves you before the end."

"I only hope you are right, brother," Faramir said.


	4. Darkness in Rohan

Chapter 4: Darkness in Rohan

The darkness of Sauron did not end in Gondor. Sauron's darkness spread over every corner of Middle-earth. That darkness was mostly angled toward the world of Men. It was at this time, a new darkness began to take shape.

In the kingdom of Rohan, this darkness began. The once peaceful kingdom had come under attack from Wild Men burning everything in their path, down to the last tree. Then, there were strange creatures. These creatures were not Orcs, the people knew, but something different. These creatures moved in sunlight without fear, they were bigger than Orcs, and more ferocious as well as hideous. Across their red faces, they bore a strange white hand.

With the impending peril in Gondor, Pharazpher raised her daughter Pharazphel in Rohan, not yet aware of the coming danger. The death of her husband and the impending danger changed Pharazpher. They had made her stronger and wiser. She learned the sword before her husband's death and improved upon her skills. By this time, she could fight just as well as any man. She also learned to ride, as Rohan was a horse country.

Pharazphel had grown into a beautiful woman with as much wisdom and courage as her parents. She had flowing, golden hair common to the people of Rohan and eyes as grey as the sea. Pharazphel had also learned the sword from her mother and learned to ride. She, too, became skilled with a blade and on horse. Though Pharazphel had courage, she feared going to battle.

"I do not want to be in a battle," she said apprehensively.

"Do you not want to fight for your country?" Pharazpher asked dubiously.

"Do not think me for a coward," Pharazphel said quickly. "I do wish to fight for Rohan and I would give my life for this country, if it came to that."

"Then why this fear?" Pharazpher wanted to know.

"I would give my life for Rohan, but I fear to. I fear to die before I have begun to live my life," Pharazphel said, a shiver down her spine.

Pharazpher placed a consoling hand on her daughter's shoulder. "I feel the same way as you do every day. I felt the same when your father died, and I am certain that he felt the same as well."

"How can you fight when you fear death?" Pharazphel asked in awe.

"In this world, there are eviler things than death," Pharazpher said wisely. "Life is just one part of a journey and death is the next. You need not fear the next path you take. Your father gave his life for us and his country because he knew that. Remember what I told you."

"I will," Pharazphel said resolutely.

The time for Pharazphel's courage to be tested was not that far away. Soon, the huge, foul creatures bearing a white hand and Wild Men began burning and killing through Rohan. Blood stained the grassy plains and black smoke billowed up to the sky as the city burned.

Pharazphel was roused by her mother during the peril. "Pharazphel! Arm yourself!"

"What peril is coming?" Pharazphel asked as she leaped out of bed, dressed quickly and put on her sword.

"There are Wild Men rampaging and burning everything," Pharazpher explained. "And there are foul creatures killing anyone in their way."

"Orcs have come this far?" Pharazphel asked, bewildered.

"No, these are not Orcs. They are stronger, and they bear a white hand," Pharazpher said. "Come! To arms!"

Pharazphel and Pharazpher then raced out to the carnage outside. They bravely struck down any foe that crossed their path. They stood firm against the creatures with the white faces. Black blood stained the plains as they fought against these creatures. Thousands more of these creatures flooded into the city. Though they fought valiantly, it became clear that Pharazpher and Pharazphel could not win this battle.

"Pharazphel! You must go to Edoras," Pharazpher cried.

"I can't leave!" Pharazphel protested.

"There are too many of them! You must get out of here!" Pharazpher shouted.

"No!" Pharazphel cried.

"I will not lose you the way I lost your father!" Pharazpher said stubbornly.

"But I can't lose _you_!" Pharazpher countered.

"I have seen more winters than you," Pharazpher said, running to a horse and buckling its bridle and saddle.

"You will go to Edoras and take refuge there," Pharazpher said sternly.

Reluctantly, Pharazphel mounted her horse. "I can't leave. I can't!"

"You can and you must," Pharazpher countered.

More creatures began to pour into the city and the screams of the villagers multiplied.

"Go!" Pharazpher cried, smacking the horse.

The horse reared and sped off with Pharazphel. Pharazphel dared not look back, even if her heart told her to. She knew she would find only pain with one last glance. On that terrible day, Pharazphel never saw her mother again.

Pharazphel kept riding hard, not daring to turn back. She rode fast and hard into the night. Suddenly, she heard snarling. Sensing danger, Pharazphel unsheathed her sword. A handful of the creatures with the white hand emerged from the forest.

The leader of the creatures cackled at her. "Look what just crawled into our net, boys!"

Pharazphel raised her sword. "You will not be crawling or breathing if you do not leave."

The leader snarled. "Neither will you."

Pharazphel spurred her horse and fought the creatures as best as she could and slew many foes. Alas, her foes got the best of her. One of the creatures pierced her horse with a spear, bringing her down. Pharazphel fought her best, despite the loss of her horse. Suddenly, she was struck from behind by the iron fist of the creature. Pharazphel barely registered any feeling as the creatures bound her hands.

When she awoke, Pharazphel felt only cold. She was hanging by her wrists from a tree and her shirt was torn. She could feel that the creature had given her a scar. She noticed that the creatures were paying no attention to her. While they were distracted, Pharazphel tried to loosen the bindings on her wrists. Unfortunately, the creatures were not distracted very long.

"Looks like our little play thing is awake!" the leader chortled.

"I warned you what would happen if you did not leave. If you harm me, you will regret it," Pharazphel said menacingly.

The creatures simply laughed uproariously.

"I do not think so," the leader said. "Let's teach this mortal scum some manners, boys!"

With growls and hoots, the creatures showed their agreement. One creature approached Pharazphel from behind. _Thrash! Snap! Whack!_ The monster brought a huge whip down on Pharazphel's back. Pharazphel remained strong, as if she were created with stone. The creatures howled as they watched her torture. Pharazphel did not fear the pain and torment she received. In her mind, she had already lost everything.

The leader of the creatures approached her. "Do you regret encountering us yet, scum?"

Pharazphel spat in the face of the monster. "You can torture me, kill me, but you will never break me."

"I doubt that," the leader snarled. "Let's stretch this scum's legs."

Rope was attached to Pharazphel's legs and attached to a wolf-like beast. The leader of the creatures smacked the beast, yanking the rope and stretching Pharazphel. Pharazphel heard a distinct _snap!_ come from her arm. She did not wince or cry out, as she knew that would only prolong her torment and give joy to her tormentors. It seemed a lifetime before Pharazphel was finally untied from the beast. She was soon hoisted by the neck in the iron grip of the creature.

"Let me hear you beg for death," the leader said with pleasure.

"You are simply wasting your time, monster," Pharazphel panted, her words strong. "I do not fear you, nor death or pain. Your villainy is wasted."

The leader dropped Pharazphel callously to the ground, smashing her wounded arm.

The creature then placed his sword against her throat. "If that is true, then you shall die now."

Suddenly, the leader shrieked, dropping Pharazphel. Pharazphel saw her captors fall dead all around her. Pharazphel lost herself in darkness and did not see her savior.


	5. Pharazphel's Rescuers

Chapter 5: Pharazphel's Rescuers

Word of the darkness in Rohan had reached the ears of the people of Gondor. The tale of these fierce creatures struck a new terror in the people. They knew it was only a matter of time before the creatures bearing the white hand and Wild Men burnt their way to Osgiliath and then the white city of Minas Tirith.

The word had not escaped the ears of Boromir and Faramir. The noble brothers wanted to help their brethren in Rohan. However, their father vehemently refused.

"They say that these creatures run with great speed through sunlight," Faramir told his father.

"There is word that this new devilry comes from Isengard. Saruman has turned traitor. These creatures bear his white hand," Boromir explained.

Their words did not sway Denethor, who simply said nothing and glared.

"Father, the Wild Men have sworn their allegiance to Saruman. They along with these creatures of the White Hand are burning everything in their path and killing at will," Boromir argued.

"If they are unchallenged then they will only burn their way to our white city," Faramir added.

"When I want the advice of a wizard's pupil, I will ask for it," Denethor said callously. "What business of ours is it what goes on beyond our borders?"

"Father, Saruman the Traitor will not stop his slaughter in Rohan. He will continue his blood-soaked path until he has destroyed everything and everyone in the world," Boromir argued.

"We must send aid to Rohan," Faramir said urgently.

"Rohan!" Denethor growled. "Does Rohan feel that Saruman the Traitor is a greater evil than Sauron? Where was Rohan when this darkness began? Rohan was never there when Sauron first attacked us. Why should we ride to aid those who did not aid us? We owe nothing to Rohan."

"Father, these people are our brothers and sisters! We cannot leave them to slaughter," Boromir protested.

"No, my son," Denethor said gently. "Time has changed the world. The time of brotherhood is over. The alliances made in the time of Sauron are dead and buried. We cannot aid Rohan if they will not give aid to us."

"Father, please, we must help them!" Faramir protested.

"No!" Denethor snapped. "I will not be pestered into submission by the words of a wizard's pupil! Get out of my sight, and relieve me of your foolishness!"

Faramir trembled.

"Father, Faramir is only saying what is right," Boromir said.

"I trust only your wisdom because it is pure, not polluted by the spells of a wizard," Denethor said.

Faramir quitted the room, his face unreadable.

"Every day, all he does is aspire to please you, and you do not even recognize his efforts," Boromir said angrily.

"Do not trouble me with your brother. If that is your intention, then you may go as well," Denethor said.

Furious, Boromir bowed to his father and followed Faramir.

Faramir and Boromir met in a corridor where they could speak in secret.

"At least your words reached Father's ears while mine were lost," Faramir said ruefully.

"Father heard your words clear as an Elvish song, even if he chooses to lie," Boromir said in comfort.

"I do not understand how Father could be so cruel as to leave our brethren to die," Faramir said in shock.

"His wisdom is right. The Rohirrim soldiers have never troubled to ride to us in our time of need," Boromir said.

"Oh, no. Not you too, brother!" Faramir groaned.

"Do not worry yourself, brother," Boromir said calmly. "I am simply saying that Rohan has never come to our aid. That does not mean that we should not ride to theirs."

"In our situation, brother, it is not a question of should not, but _can not_," Faramir countered. "How can we help Rohan when Father demands that we do nothing?"

"We do not need Father's approval to do what is right," Boromir said earnestly. "We will ride for Rohan."

"How?" Faramir asked.

"Muster only a few of our men as you can," Boromir instructed. "Our secrecy will serve us better if we have a small number of soldiers. We will ride at dawn."

The next morning, dawn's light crept over the peaks of the mountains and showed its head to Minas Tirith. True to their word, Boromir and Faramir made ready to ride to Rohan in secret. They gathered as many men as they could and rode off in a thunder of horses.

The ride to Rohan was a three day ride. By dawn on the third morning, Boromir and Faramir's company reached their destination. They saw the horror that had befallen the country. Villages burned, black smoke polluted the sweet air, and innocent people were being slaughtered at every turn.

"Kill anything in your path, men!" Boromir said. "Do not show them mercy as they will show none to you!"

Boromir, Faramir, and their handful of soldiers spurred their horses and rode to battle. The company rode with on and their swords rung through the air, meeting the bodies of these creatures. At every turn, Boromir and Faramir's company killed any foe that crossed their path. Victory seemed to be in reach.

Alas, the small company could do little to hold back the peril. Thousands more of the creatures of the White Hand flooded into the villages. The Wild Men continued to rampage through by the hundreds. The company was quickly overwhelmed.

"We cannot hold them back," Faramir cried. "There are too many of them!"

"Fall back! Fall back to Minas Tirith!" Boromir shouted.

Riding hard through the enemy's path, Boromir and Faramir took their soldiers, now lessened to only a few, backward to Gondor. While riding through the forest, they heard the horrible growls of those creatures.

"Why do these creatures hide in the forest?" Faramir asked, bewildered.

"Faramir, we cannot hold them back," Boromir protested.

"I just want to know why these creatures hide if they do not fear sunlight," Faramir said. "Something is not right here."

Boromir signaled his few soldiers and followed Faramir on foot. From the safety of the trees, Boromir and Faramir beheld a horrific sight. The creatures growled and cackled as they tortured a young woman.

Faramir looked at his brother, waiting for a response.

"We cannot leave her to this torment," Boromir said resolutely.

Boromir signaled his men, and with a nod, they sprung from their hiding place and attacked the band of creatures. Thankfully, Boromir and Faramir's company outnumbered the band of foes. They quickly overtook the creatures without trouble. Then, they hurried to the victimized woman.

"She's alive," Boromir said in relief.

"What shall we do? We cannot leave her here," Faramir said.

"And we shall not. We will take her to Gondor. Hurry," Boromir replied.

Boromir gingerly mounted his horse with the wounded woman and he as well as his men rode with all haste to Gondor.

Boromir and his company rode night and day until they reached their city. Boromir and Faramir quickly raced to the Houses of Healing. They saw to their wounded and then focused on the woman.

"Faramir, quick, fetch a nurse. Hurry!" Boromir instructed.

Faramir hurried away with speed quicker than lightning. Boromir stayed with the woman. His heart broke for this woman as he took notice of her numerous wounds. Boromir grazed his hand over the white hand of the young woman's. Suddenly, she gasped as if in pain and sprang awake.

"Do not be afraid, my lady. You are safe," Boromir said in comfort. "I am Boromir, son of Denethor. You will be safe with me."

"Ph…Pharazphel," breathed the woman, her voice full of pain.

"You are safe now, Pharazphel," Boromir comforted.

Pharazphel did not speak and simply faded again. Faramir returned with the old nurse, Ioreth.

"How is she?" Faramir asked as the nurse examined the woman.

"If those creatures wanted to kill her, they were close," Boromir said gravely. "She's barely alive."

"Has she spoken at all?" Faramir asked.

"Only to tell me her name is Pharazphel," Boromir replied.

Both brothers took notice of Pharazphel's wounds and then her maimed arm as Ioreth examined it.

"Her arm is broken," Faramir gasped.

"Many of her joints are out of place and she burns with fever," Ioreth replied sadly. "I must set this woman's joints in place before any damage is permanent."

Boromir and Faramir helped Ioreth treat poor Pharazphel. Boromir placed a damp cloth on Pharazphel's head to relieve her fever. Ioreth then began work on Pharazphel's joints. With a _crack! _and a _snap! _Ioreth treated her. After setting her joints in place, Ioreth then bound Pharazphel's broken arm in a linen cloth and let her rest.

Boromir and Faramir winced in horror. They could not imagine what pain this woman went through. They took comfort and marveled as Pharazphel did not cry out as she was treated.

"I have never seen anyone endure so much torment," Faramir said ruefully.

"Brave woman," Boromir said in awe.

Boromir and Faramir stayed with Pharazphel all through the night. They were thankful that they had done a little to help Rohan and saved this woman. As they kept their watch on her, both were amazed by this woman's strength.


	6. Pharazphel's Recovery

Chapter 6: Pharazphel's Recovery

For the next few days, Pharazphel remained in the care of the Houses of Healing. She had not woken since telling Boromir of her name. The wounded woman had taken a grievous injury since leaving Rohan. Her hurts did not simply stop with her torture; she had also been hurt by leaving her home in danger and the loss of her mother. She may have died in the torture of those strange creatures with all the pain she endured.

Boromir and Faramir barely left Pharazphel's side. They both felt it was their duty to look after this woman they had rescued. In their hearts, it was the least they could do to help the people of Rohan. It did not take long during this time for Denethor to learn of his sons' secret mission. Once he did, he was furious that his sons had disobeyed him.

"This is how you would serve me? This is how you would serve Gondor?" Denethor demanded, his lips curling in fury.

"No, my lord, this is how we would serve Men," Boromir countered.

"By risking the lives of men to aid a country who never aided us?" Denethor demanded.

"Just because Rohan has never sought to aid us does not mean we should abandon them," Faramir said boldly.

"And what are the fruits of your good deed?" Denethor demanded angrily. "You lose more than half the men you traveled with that were useful to us. What's more is that you bring in some weak, broken Rohan damsel!"

"I assure you that the woman is quite a strong woman to endure what she did," Faramir said.

"My lord, what are you saying? We had no choice but to protect this woman," Boromir said.

"She was not worth the loss of your men," Denethor said callously.

Boromir was stunned. "You think we should have left her to die. You think it would have been better if this woman had died in torment of the Uruk-Hai of Isengard."

"Yes, that is what should have happened," Denethor said, his tone unwavering.

Both Boromir and Faramir were stunned at their father. They knew he had grown into a cold man, but they did not know the frost covered his heart.

"I am sorry to have disappointed you, my lord," Boromir said earnestly.

Boromir and Faramir bowed and went on their way to the Houses of Healing.

While on the short walk to the Houses of Healing, Boromir was deeply shaken by his father's words. He hated that he disappointed his father, but he hated more what his father asked of him.

"I have never disappointed father like that before," Boromir said sadly.

"I only took comfort in that he was chastising _you_ instead of me," Faramir jested. "This was your idea and you had no shame of it before."

"Why did we bring this woman?" Boromir asked.

"We brought her because she would have died and it was the right thing," Faramir said nobly.

"Perhaps Father was right," Boromir said regretfully.

"Are you ashamed that we rescued this woman?" Faramir demanded, aghast.

"We did lose our men that could have served here," Boromir said.

"Father is not always right and we both know that," Faramir said.

"I just cannot believe what he asked of us. I did not know that he would condone the death of one of our brethren," Boromir said in shock.

"What matters is that the woman is safe and we did right saving her," Faramir said firmly.

Boromir nodded. "Come. Let us know the condition of this brave woman."

Boromir and Faramir entered the Houses of Healing and met with Ioreth.

"How does the lady fare?" Boromir asked.

Ioreth was grave. "It is difficult to say, my lords."

"Has she spoken or awakened at all?" Faramir wanted to know.

"No, my lord," Ioreth said sadly. "I am afraid the lady has been severely hurt."

Both brothers had shivers run down their spines.

"Will she not live?" Boromir asked sadly.

"I do not know," Ioreth replied. "I can see that this woman has strength, but I fear that her wounds are stronger."

"What can we do for her?" Boromir wanted to know.

"I do not think there is anything more you can do, my lords," Ioreth said gravely. "I must change this woman's bandages."

Ioreth turned Pharazphel on her belly and began to change the bandages. Boromir and Faramir were horrified by what they saw. The bandages were dyed red by Pharazphel's blood and her back was horribly scarred.

"What monsters could do this to a lady?" Boromir demanded, his blood boiling.

"Saruman's hordes will taste the blood of any man, woman, or child," Faramir said grimly.

"Now I know this woman must have strength like stone," Boromir said in awe. "To endure the torment of these monsters one must be made of stone."

"Indeed," Faramir said.

Boromir gazed at Pharazphel. His heart sank as he looked at her, her broken arm bound in a sling, many bruises blackening her white skin. Pharazphel looked as if death had already taken her. Her skin was a deathly white and she seemed not to breathe. Boromir was ashamed of himself for letting his father's words get to him.

"What a fool I was to regret saving this woman," Boromir sighed. "I do not even know if we even saved her completely."

"How do you mean?" Faramir asked.

"We may have destroyed her tormentors, but I think that we may have already been too late," Boromir replied sorrowfully.

"There is always hope, brother," Faramir said.

Pharazphel remained near death for another week. Boromir and Faramir grew worried every day that she would never wake. They worried that they might have indeed been too late to save Pharazphel from her captors.

Finally, on the last day of the week, Pharazphel began to show small signs of improvement.

"How does the lady fare, Ioreth?" Boromir asked.

"She is starting to recover," Ioreth said brightly.

Boromir was taken aback. "Are you certain?"

"How do you know?" Faramir asked.

"Look," Ioreth said, pointing to Pharazphel's still body.

To the amazement of Boromir and Faramir, they could see Pharazphel's breast rise beneath the covers. Her skin had more colour than before and her black bruises were gone.

"The lady is on the mend," Ioreth declared proudly. "Her fever has gone. She is nearly healed, save for her right arm."

"It looks like she had strength like stone as you said, brother," Faramir said happily.

"Indeed," Boromir said in relief.

By that night, Pharazphel had awakened. She was startled, as she did not know where she was. She saw many wounded around her and many nurses tending these wounded. The room was of marble and seemed to glimmer in the moonlight.

Pharazphel took notice of her own wounds. She saw her arm bound in a sling and grimaced as she tried to rise. A tall man with fair hair came to her side.

"Please, you need your rest, Pharazphel," the man said.

"Who are you?" Pharazphel asked.

"You do not remember?" the man asked.

"No, my last memory is leaving Rohan and I do not know you," Pharazphel replied.

"I am Boromir, son of Denethor," replied the tall man.

"Then I am not in Edoras?" Pharazphel wanted to know.

"No, my lady, you are in Minas Tirith, and you are in the Houses of Healing," Boromir answered.

"I should be in Edoras," Pharazphel said resolutely, attempting to rise again.

"No, rest my lady," Boromir said, lowering her back to her pillow. "You need not travel as wounded as you are."

"I was ordered to go to Edoras. I must warn King Théoden of the attack on our village," Pharazphel said stubbornly.

"I am certain that your King knows of the danger in your land by now," Boromir reassured her.

"How is it that I am here and not in Edoras?" Pharazphel wanted to know.

"My brother and I had heard news of Saruman the Traitor's treachery," Boromir explained. "We rode with a small company to give aid to Rohan, but we were overwhelmed. We freed you from the Uruk-Hai and brought you here to heal."

"Uruk-Hai?" Pharazphel asked, bewildered.

"They are the monsters of Isengard who attacked you," Boromir answered.

"I am grateful for all that you have done for me, my lord, but I must ride for Edoras with all haste," Pharazphel said appreciatively.

"My lady, you have just awakened and have just begun to heal. You need to rest," Boromir said urgently.

"I have been a prisoner of my wounds long enough," Pharazphel said obstinately. "Saruman and his Uruk-Hai are not resting. As long as they are not resting, I cannot so I must go."

"I know your courage as soon as I found you, my lady, but wisdom this is not," Boromir argued. "If you ride now, your wounds may get worse. You could be attacked again or worse."

"I will not be held prisoner here," Pharazphel protested.

"Would you rather be held prisoner by Saruman?" Boromir countered. "That is all that will happen if you ride now. I beg you, Pharazphel, rest."

"You do not understand. My mother died so that I may get to Edoras. I must repay her by fulfilling my duty," Pharazphel explained.

"Your mother would not want you to die needlessly," Boromir countered. "Please, I know it is difficult to ask of you, but stay and rest."

Finally, Pharazphel relented and lay still. "Forgive me, my lord."

"There is nothing to forgive, Pharazphel," Boromir said gently. "Tell me about your mother."

"She taught me everything I know," Pharazphel said. "She taught me to fight and ride. The last lesson I ever learned from her was to never fear death as there are worse things."

"Hence your courage," Boromir added.

"I truly believe those Uruk-Hai were afraid of me because I did not break," Pharazphel said proudly.

Boromir laughed. "I think they were terrified, indeed. You must be made of stone to endure their torment."

"I would not consider that torment. I think that the Uruk-Hai only have me longer arms and legs," Pharazphel jested.

Boromir laughed merrily. "Indeed. Please, you must rest now."

"Thank you, my lord," Pharazphel said graciously.

Later that night, under the cover of darkness, Pharazphel rose from her bed and looked north. She could not bear the thought of her country suffering. She could not bear to rest while her people were murdered and the country burned. Pharazphel could take no more. She crept out into the darkness in search of the stables.

She crept into the stable and opened the creaking door as carefully as she could. She then took the nearest horse she could find and mounted it. To her dismay, the horse reared and screeched. Before she could make her escape, Pharazphel was stopped by another man. Through the darkness, Pharazphel could see that this man greatly resembled Boromir.

"Who are you?" the man demanded.

"I am Pharazphel, daughter of Pharazpher," Pharazphel replied. "What be your name?"

"I am Faramir, son of Denethor," the man replied. "You belong in the Houses of Healing, not on a horse, my lady."

Pharazphel groaned. She accepted her defeat and went willingly with Faramir back to the Houses of Healing. As she did, she promised herself that she would get back to Rohan.


	7. Clashing and Caring

Chapter 7: Clashing and Caring

Just as the sun spread its arms and peeked its head over the mountains, Pharazphel was escorted by Faramir back to her bed in the Houses of Healing. Needless to say, Pharazphel was annoyed that her escape did not succeed. While her country burned, Pharazphel could not bear the idea of being away from it. She felt that she had only done a small part and wanted to honor her fallen mother.

Boromir was waiting in the Houses of Healing much to Pharazphel's chagrin.

_Oh, dear_ Pharazphel groaned to herself.

"Pharazphel, it is strange to find you accompanying my brother where you should not be and not in your bed where you should be," Boromir said crossly.

"Indeed it is strange," Pharazphel agreed.

"Might I ask why you are arriving to your bed at this hour?" Boromir asked.

"The lady was trying to ride, brother," Faramir explained.

"Had your brother not been in the stables last night, I would have been halfway to Rohan by now," Pharazphel explained in annoyance.

"No, I will tell you where you would have been," Boromir countered. "Had you rode out last night, you would be in the dungeons of Isengard or worse."

"At least I would not be a prisoner here," Pharazphel said stubbornly.

"You are not being held prisoner by us, Pharazphel," Boromir said firmly. "You are only a prisoner of your own mind."

"I cannot simply lie here in sloth," Pharazphel insisted.

"I am sorry, but until you are healed, that is what you must do," Boromir said apologetically.

"You are asking me to lie back while my country is razed to the ground?" Pharazphel asked in shock.

"I only ask that you do not give your life needlessly," Boromir replied. "You promised me that you would stay here. Why did you lie to me?"

Pharazphel sighed. "It was the only way to placate you. I knew it was useless to argue with you, and that is why I told you I would stay."

"And that is why I was in the stables," Faramir said.

"What?" Pharazphel asked, confused.

"We both knew your intentions, Pharazphel," Boromir explained. "We knew that you would not stay and rest. We expected that you would try to leave as you did last night."

"I knew the first place you would go would be the stables and I was there to collect you," Faramir added.

Pharazphel was stunned. "You tricked me."

"We saved you," Boromir countered.

"Well, perhaps you should not have saved me," Pharazphel said angrily. "If you had not stopped me, I would be aiding my country in another by this time tomorrow."

"You would die before you reached Rohan either in battle or by Saruman's hand," Boromir argued.

"If I must give my life, then I will do so gladly," Pharazphel said coldly.

"You would give your life needlessly? What of your mother?" Boromir asked in shock.

"Do not ask about my mother, you did not know her!" Pharazphel snapped.

"You told me that your mother taught you never to fear death. I would imagine that your mother would be telling you not to give your life rashly," Boromir replied.

"Which you have only done numerous times since you met me," Pharazphel countered. "My mother would not tell me what to do with my life. You hardly know me, and yet you see fit to tell me what to do with my life. My decisions are my own, and no one will change them, especially not you."

"What are you trying to accomplish by going out there?" Boromir demanded, tension rising in his voice. "If you die out there, you will not achieve honor, if that is what you seek. You will simply die, whether it be in battle or not."

"This is not about honor," Pharazphel said. "It is about duty and doing what is right. I was only doing what my mother requested and aiding my country. I do not think that you in Gondor would have any trouble understanding that."

"Boromir, Father would like a word with us," Faramir informed his brother.

"I shall leave and let you collect yourself," Boromir said calmly. "If you wish to ride to peril and give your life, neither my brother nor I will stop you. You will be free to live or die as you wish."

Pharazphel glared at Boromir. "Thank you for giving me the permission, Boromir, son of Denethor," Pharazphel said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "If I am not here when you return, you shall know that I have given my life."

Boromir and Faramir then turned to leave the Houses of Healing.

While making their way back to the palace, Boromir was stunned by Pharazphel's stubbornness and refusal to listen.

"If I can say one thing about Pharazphel, it is that she certainly has a sharp tongue on her," Faramir commented.

"Too sharp for her own good," Boromir commented angrily.

"She is certainly brave and fiercely loyal without a doubt," Faramir said.

"I am glad you can understand her character, little brother, because I cannot understand her at all," Boromir said, annoyed and perplexed. "From the moment she awoke, I cannot tell if she is brave or foolish. I do not even know if she is truly grateful for us coming to her aid."

"I think you take that too far, brother," Faramir said wisely. "I think that without a doubt that she is pleased that we saved her from the Uruk-Hai."

"How can you be sure?" Boromir asked.

"Because she would be alive to save her precious Rohan," Faramir said in a tiny jest.

"There is some truth in that, little brother," Boromir agreed.

"Let's not get too hard on Pharazphel," Faramir said gently.

"What do you mean? Has she gotten to you?" Boromir wanted to know.

"All I am saying is that I understand the plight that Pharazphel is in, and you should, too," Faramir advised.

"And why should I understand her foolish desire to die?" Boromir demanded.

"Brother, try to see this from her perspective," Faramir pleaded. "Her home has been attacked and burned. Those Orcs and Uruk-Hai killed her mother. And on top of that she was tortured and now she is here where she does not want to be. All she wants is to save her country in any way."

"So she has said," Boromir groaned.

"We both know what that is like," Faramir said. "If any one of us were in Pharazphel's position, we would behave just like her."

Boromir sighed in admittance. "You're right, brother. I know for certain that if Osgiliath or Minas Tirith was burning, and I was unable to aid them, I would behave like Pharazphel."

Upon entering the palace, Boromir and Faramir saw Denethor sitting upon his stone seat. His face was unreadable, but both of them knew he was cross.

"You summoned us, Father," Boromir said.

Denethor glared at his son. "What has become of that wench you picked from the forest?"

"She is stubborn, Father," Boromir replied. "She needs to recover and she is doing quite well."

"I have heard that you caught her escaping," Denethor said, his tone almost accusing.

"It was not Boromir, but I who discovered her, Father," Faramir explained. "She was trying to take one of the horses and ride for Rohan. I stopped her and led her back to the Houses of Healing."

Denethor's lip quivered in anger. "You let this foolish, weakling of a woman stay! What could I have expected from the student of a wizard?"

"Father, why are you angry?" Faramir asked in surprise.

"If your brother had been in the stables, he would have done us all a service and gotten rid of that woman!" Denethor growled.

"No, Father," Boromir answered firmly. "I would not have let Pharazphel go. She is not strong enough to make the journey to Rohan yet. If Faramir had not stopped her, she would have only gone to her death."

"Then he should have let her go to her doom and you should let her go because she is not our concern," Denethor said callously.

"She is our concern so long as she stays here," Boromir argued.

"That wretched woman has made you blind!" Denethor shouted.

"Then tell us, Father, what can we not see?" Boromir wanted to know.

"Sauron's forces are marching," Denethor said. "His forces will reach us soon. He will make first for Osgiliath. You have been too blinded by this woman to see this."

"We assure you that we have not been," Faramir replied firmly.

"We will prepare the defenses for Osgiliath," Boromir said.

"You will do well to cast out this woman before she makes you blind to your own ruin," Denethor advised coldly.

"I will be the judge of that, Father," Boromir said resolutely.

Boromir and Faramir bowed and quitted the chamber.

"I do not understand Father's coldness," Boromir said angrily. "He would send Pharazphel as a present to Saruman if he could!"

"We both know Father's temper," Faramir said.

"All I wish to do is keep Pharazphel out of danger. Why is it that neither she nor Father can see that?" Boromir cried.

Faramir laughed merrily.

"What are you laughing at?" Boromir asked.

"You, brother," Faramir giggled.

"Why?" Boromir asked, perplexed.

"You care for her," Faramir said, amused.

"What makes you say that?" Boromir asked, his voice rising a tiny bit.

"Do not pretend ignorance, brother," Faramir said wisely. "I can see and hear your compassion for Pharazphel for the past weeks. You know you care for her."

Boromir sighed. "I do care for her. That is why I can't bear to let her go out there."

"Then Pharazphel must know that," Faramir declared.

"Thank you, brother," Boromir said. "She will be made aware of that, if she does not know already."

A/N: How am I doing? I hope Pharazphel isn't sounding like a Mary-Sue. Let me know what you think and if and how I could improve. Thank you to my reviewers!


	8. Admitted Feelings

Chapter 8: Admitted Feelings

Pharazphel lay in her bed, deep in her thoughts. It was all she could do while she continued to recover. She still felt anger toward Boromir for keeping her trapped in Gondor. She hated it that he kept her a prisoner, away from her country.

However, Pharazphel began to have doubts about herself. Pharazphel groaned as her broken arm gave a twinge. Glancing and grimacing at her wounded arm, she began to wonder if Boromir was right. What if Faramir hadn't been there to stop her? Would she reach Rohan alive? Pharazphel was confident she would have. Yet at the same time, she began to think Boromir was right to keep her.

Pharazphel's mind began to change about Boromir. She felt that she was too hard on him. She knew that he truly didn't mean to keep her from Rohan. Boromir was only trying to do what was right. Pharazphel knew she was being stubborn. She realized that she made a mistake quarreling with Boromir. She was determined to set it right.

That afternoon, Faramir greeted the Houses of Healing. Pharazphel was sitting up in her bed.

Faramir beamed. "My brother did not exaggerate your strength."

"He certainly did not," Pharazphel said, beaming back. "I will admit that much. What brings you here, Faramir?"

"I believe that you know the answer to that," Faramir replied.

"Indeed," Pharazphel replied. "You are here to speak to me about your brother."

Faramir sat by Pharazphel's bed. "I know you do not want to be here. I cannot blame you. I understand your position. Please, try to understand Boromir. He was only doing right by keeping you here. Neither he nor I could bear to imagine what would happen if you left like this."

Pharazphel sighed. "I know. I am only beginning to see it."

"What brought on this change of heart?" Faramir asked in surprise.

"You may be surprised to find that I have plenty of time to think whilst I lay here," Pharazphel said wittily.

"Not surprised at all," Faramir laughed.

"I have thought about Boromir since I arrived here," Pharazphel said pensively. "I know he is an honorable man, as are you. Yesterday, I felt as if he was nothing but a captor. However, I was only lying to myself. I must admit that I have been so blind. I did not realize the goodness that you and him are doing me."

"There is no need to forgive," Faramir said with a smile. "Boromir can be stubborn, I'll admit."

"Well then, that is a trait that we have in common," Pharazphel said with a smile. "We are both too stubborn for our own good."

"Boromir is just like our father," Faramir said. "They are both strong and proud. I only dream of being capable of the great deeds he has accomplished."

"I think you are," Pharazphel said sincerely. "You are one of the most honorable men I have ever known. What makes you doubt your worth?"

"I love my father, but I often doubt if he loves me," Faramir said glumly.

"How could your own father not love you?" Pharazphel asked, puzzled.

"You have not met my father," Faramir said. "Boromir is my father's beloved son. There was a time when my father loved me. Now, I am but a ghost in my father's eyes."

"I do not think that is true," Pharazphel said gently.

"And what makes you so certain?" Faramir asked.

"If a parent does not love their children, they are not parents at all," Pharazphel said simply. "Your father loved you and he loves you still. One day, both of you will see it."

"That is encouraging counsel," Faramir said gratefully. "This is strange that I came to give you counsel and you advise me."

"I suppose that makes us even," Pharazphel laughed.

Meanwhile, Denethor was growing impatient and furious. He had summoned Boromir to the castle for news of Pharazphel.

Boromir entered the chamber and bowed. "What is your bidding, Father?"

"I have heard that you have not yet sent that woman back where she belongs," Denethor said, his lips quivering.

"Father, please," Boromir begged. "Pharazphel still needs rest. She is a guest here."

"She is uninvited and she should go back to her home in Rohan," Denethor said, his voice rising.

"Forgive me, Father, but I will not send Pharazphel away," Boromir said, his voice like stone.

Denethor was stunned. "You have feelings for that wench?"

"Pharazphel is a strong, wise woman, and no wench," Boromir argued. "Why do you scoff at anyone you deem less than me?"

"You did not answer my question," Denethor countered. "Do you have feelings for her?"

"If I were to reply, you would only tell me that they are a fantasy or some spell cast by Pharazphel," Boromir said knowingly.

"I will not have this," Denethor said. "Do you have feelings for that girl or do you not?"

Boromir sighed. "I do and that is why I must not let her go."

Denethor said nothing.

"Forgive me, Father," Boromir said, as he bowed and left the room.

Boromir sighed as he approached the Houses of Healing. He had felt terrible for keeping Pharazphel away from Rohan, even if it was the right thing. He only hoped that she would understand him.

He saw Pharazphel lying in her bed. He took notice that she looked fit for battle, save for her broken arm.

Pharazphel noticed Boromir and raised herself. "Hail, Boromir."

"You look as if you are in good health today, Pharazphel," Boromir said warmly.

"Indeed, I am, except for my arm," Pharazphel said.

"I hope that you have been comfortable," Boromir said.

"I have been. I have been treated well by my hosts," Pharazphel said gratefully.

"I do not wish to be your captor for much longer," Boromir said bitterly.

"You will not be," Pharazphel said, her tone unreadable.

Boromir swallowed and sighed. "I do not mean to be a captor for you. You are only trying to help your country, and I was wrong to call you foolish."

"No, Boromir," Pharazphel said humbly. "After what you and Faramir have done for me, it is I who should be making amends. My love for my mother and my country got the best of me. I was too stubborn to see that you were only doing the right thing. Forgive me. I was wrong to treat you so harshly."

Boromir smiled and placed his hand on Pharazphel's shoulder. "There is nothing to forgive, Pharazphel. We were both too proud to see our faults."

"If there is but one thing my mother did not teach me, it was patience," Pharazphel said lightheartedly.

Boromir laughed. "I can see that your mother taught you well."

"Indeed, she did," Pharazphel replied.

"I hope that you know why I have kept you here, other than what I have stated before," Boromir said earnestly. "I care about you, Pharazphel. I admire your courage and spirit."

"And I you," Pharazphel said solemnly. "You are an honorable, valiant, and kind man. You have my utmost respect."

"I am sorry that I have kept you from Rohan," Boromir said.

"I will reach Rohan and aid my country sooner rather than later," Pharazphel said gently. "I am glad that you brought me here. You taught me a great deal. You have been a wonderful companion."

"I am glad to have met you and been your companion," Boromir said compassionately.

Now that they had admitted their feelings, Boromir and Pharazphel were merry. However, there was a bittersweet feeling for Boromir. In those few weeks since he had met Pharazphel, he had only realized he cared for her. Now that Pharazphel was nearly healed, she'd soon be off to Rohan. Boromir considered this and knew that would be a tragic day.


	9. Boromir's Confession

Chapter 9: Boromir's Confession

Sunlight crept over the tops of the mountains. Pharazphel felt the warmth of the sun on her face as she awoke. Her strength had finally returned to her after a long absence. Thanks to the skill of her hosts, Pharazphel's numerous wounds were now reduced to scars that she would bear for the rest of her life. The only remaining trouble was that her arm remained in a sling, but it would soon mend.

Pharazphel sat up to see Ioreth, the old wife tending to her.

"How do you fare this morning, lady?" Ioreth wanted to know.

"My strength has returned to me, save for my arm," Pharazphel said.

"This is certainly glad tidings for you then," Ioreth said with a smile.

"Indeed, and I owe it all to your skill," Pharazphel said graciously. "I could not have wished for better hosts."

"You are most kind, Pharazphel," Ioreth said humbly. "Would you care for some breakfast?"

"I have only one request," Pharazphel said.

"And what is that?" Ioreth asked.

"I would like to walk about, if I may," Pharazphel requested. "I have lain in sloth for far too long it seems. My legs must remember their strength."

"If that is your wish, you may do so," Ioreth said.

"Thank you, Ioreth," Pharazphel said gratefully.

Pharazphel planted her feet to the floor. Summoning up her new strength, she stood up. Not surprising to Pharazphel, her legs were like jelly. She had not used them since her escape attempt and she sorely regretted that she could not walk before. Pharazphel willed herself to balance and took one step. Slowly, Pharazphel began to feel her legs remembering their strength.

Pharazphel made her way out to the gardens. She took in the fresh air of the outdoors. The smell of the trees, the flowers, and the air rejuvenated her, as she had not felt the air for many weeks. Even as she felt revived, she was troubled as she looked to the East. Lightning and black clouds of Mordor crept ever nearer to the city.

Just then, Pharazphel saw Boromir walking in the gardens.

"Not trying to escape again, are you?" Boromir asked dubiously.

"Do not worry, I am not going anywhere," Pharazphel reassured him.

"You seem troubled," Boromir said in concern.

"The darkness is spreading all over," Pharazphel said glumly.

"You need not be troubled," Boromir reassured her. "These days will be renewed. This darkness will not endure."

"That is a hopeful thought," Pharazphel said brightly.

"It is good to see that your strength has returned," Boromir said warmly.

"It is only due to the care of my generous hosts," Pharazphel said appreciatively. "I do not think that I would have found my strength again were it not for you."

"I do not think that it was ever lost," Boromir replied. "We simply helped you remember it."

"That you did," Pharazphel agreed. "If I may, there is but one host I have not thanked."

"And who might that be?" Boromir wanted to know.

"The lord of this city," Pharazphel replied. "I must thank the Lord Denethor for allowing me to be a guest here."

A wave of apprehension came over Boromir. He already saw how this meeting would play out. Denethor had been demanding that Pharazphel go home from the moment she arrived. He could not bear to subject Pharazphel to his father's temper.

"Would you not rather we tarry in the garden?" Boromir asked, hiding his fear.

"Perhaps later," Pharazphel replied. "Please, I must meet the Lord Denethor. He deserves my thanks."

"Are you certain that you must thank him?" Boromir asked.

"Well, of course I must," Pharazphel replied, baffled. "Are you not well this morning, Boromir?"

"Why do you ask?" Boromir wanted to know.

"Because your skin has just turned white," Pharazphel replied. "You look as if you're going to your death."

_I think I am,_ Boromir thought to himself.

"I do not think it is a good idea to meet with my father. He's really a stubborn man," Boromir said hesitantly.

"I will be the judge of his character," Pharazphel declared.

"Truly, wouldn't you rather stay here?" Boromir asked desperately.

"Boromir, I do not know what madness has taken you, but I will meet your father to thank him for his hospitality," Pharazphel said firmly. "I am certain that your father is a generous man."

_You have no idea, _Boromir thought.

"Will you not take me to meet your Lord Denethor?" Pharazphel asked.

"Very well," Boromir agreed. "You shall have an audience with Lord Denethor."

Boromir's tone was clearly betraying his feelings. He knew that this was not a good idea. He only hoped in vain that his father would be merciful.

Boromir and Pharazphel climbed the steps to Denethor's chamber. Boromir was trembling, but he did not let Pharazphel know it. Denethor sat on his high, stone seat.

Pharazphel approached Denethor and bowed. "Hail, Denethor son of Ecthelion."

Denethor's face was unreadable. "And what be your name, lady?"

"I am Pharazphel, daughter of Pharazpher, my lord," Pharazphel said humbly.

"Are you not the same Pharazphel from Rohan?" Denethor asked.

"I am the only Pharazphel, my lord," Pharazphel replied.

"I have heard that you took a great torment in Rohan while fighting off Saruman's hordes," Denethor said, his tone uncertain.

"Yes, and that is why I am here," Pharazphel replied. "I have come to thank you for having me as a guest."

"Guest?" Denethor asked, as if confused.

"You have been a most gracious host and I am ever in the debt of you and your sons," Pharazphel praised.

"I trust that you are well?" Denethor asked.

"Indeed, I am my lord," Pharazphel said.

"I trust that now you shall be on your way to Rohan," Denethor said nonchalantly.

"I shall, but not until I have full use of my arm again, my lord," Pharazphel said.

"And why should you hesitate now to return to your home?" Denethor demanded, sneering at Pharazphel.

"I do not hesitate, my lord," Pharazphel said firmly.

"Did you not protest staying in the Houses of Healing? Did you not try to escape?" Denethor interrogated.

"I did, but now I realize that staying here has only done me good," Pharazphel said.

"Did you not consider what your presence here has done to me and my city?" Denethor said, his lip quivering.

"Forgive my ignorance, my lord. What has my presence done?" Pharazphel asked calmly.

"Did you not notice that Sauron's eye has its gaze on us?" Denethor asked.

"Yes, I have known that," Pharazphel answered.

"And while Sauron has his gaze upon my city, you have made my sons blind to this peril," Denethor said angrily.

"I assure you that I have not, my lord," Pharazphel said firmly.

"You insolent wench!" Denethor cried. "My sons have all but forgotten about the impending doom to care for you!"

"Father!" Boromir cried, aghast.

"Your sons are only doing what was right," Pharazphel argued. "I have not asked them to forget their duty and I never will."

"You asked that the moment you arrived here," Denethor countered.

"Would you rather I had died in the torment of the Uruk-Hai of Isengard?" Pharazphel demanded.

"Yes, that is what should have happened," Denethor said coldly.

The temperature in the room dropped. It was so cold in the room. Pharazphel stood silent for a long moment. Though she did not blench, she was hurt. There was anger in her eyes. Pharazphel could not believe the coldness of Denethor. Now she understood why Faramir felt neglected, and why Boromir was so hesitant.

"Perhaps your may get your wish sooner rather than later, my lord," Pharazphel said her voice a mixture of anger and sorrow.

Pharazphel turned and left the halls swiftly.

"Pharazphel!" Boromir called after her.

Boromir turned to his father. "How could you insult her? All she did was sing your praises and you spat on her."

"She is no different than your brother," Denethor said callously.

Boromir was taken aback. "Because they both desire your credit but you withhold it and you tantalize them."

"That Rohan wench is none of your concern anymore," Denethor said, his voice like stone. "She will return to Rohan, and you shall forget her."

"I will not," Boromir said firmly.

"Why do you act as if you are bound to her?" Denethor demanded.

"I believe that we both know the answer to that, Father," Boromir said.

When Boromir left the steward's halls, he found Pharazphel readying a horse.

"What are you doing?" Boromir asked in shock.

"If your father wishes me gone, then he will have that wish granted," Pharazphel replied, anger in her voice.

"Forgive me, Pharazphel," Boromir said earnestly.

"There is nothing to forgive from you, but your father should not send you to make amends," Pharazphel said. "Besides, I misjudged him."

"No, I should have warned you," Boromir said. "I should not have let you go."

"You are not to blame for this," Pharazphel said gently. "I will not upset your father any further. If he wishes that I die in torment, then so I shall."

"No, Pharazphel!" Boromir cried.

"There is nothing left for me here," Pharazphel declared. "I have nothing to live for. Therefore I have more reason to fulfill your father's wish."

"That is not true," Boromir countered.

"You are no longer bound to me, Boromir," Pharazphel said. "There is no need to pretend that you are."

"I am bound to you ever since I met you," Boromir said earnestly.

"What bond do you speak of?" Pharazphel asked.

"I love you," Boromir answered passionately.

Pharazphel could not move or speak. Her heart was pounding like a great hammer.

"I loved you ever since we first spoke to each other," Boromir said lovingly. "I was a fool to keep it to myself. That is the real reason I was afraid to let you go. I do not wish to be parted from you."

"If that is your wish, then it shall be fulfilled," Pharazphel said happily.

Merrily, Boromir swept Pharazphel into his arms. For a long time, they remained in each other's embrace, forgetting time and everything else. Then, at last, their lips met.

Suddenly, Madril, a lieutenant in the army of Gondor, ran up to Boromir.

"Boromir!" he cried.

"Catch your breath, my friend," Boromir said. "What is it?"

"Osgiliath is under attack!" Madril cried. "Droves of Orcs are crossing the river into the city."

"Bring me a horse, and I shall see to the defenses," Boromir said.

Madril fetched a horse and Boromir mounted it. He gazed for a long moment at Pharazphel. He knew that he could die in this battle, as did she. He memorized her face in that moment.

"Come back to me," Pharazphel whispered.

"I will fulfill your wish," Boromir whispered tenderly.

Without another word, Boromir sped off to Osgiliath. Pharazphel watched him go and she stood as still as stone. Though she had Boromir's love, her heart was troubled. She prayed that Boromir would fulfill his promise, but she knew that it was all in vain. As Boromir disappeared, Pharazphel knew that her only love had gone to his doom too soon.


	10. Peril in Osgiliath

Chapter 10: Peril in Osgiliath

Inside the stone walls, all was silent. It was so quiet inside the halls of the steward that one could just barely hear the noise outside. Pharazphel had retired indoors to the halls of the steward, and there she waited. It was all that Pharazphel could do was wait. She was forced to wait the days, even weeks until Boromir returned. Whether he would return alive or not from the peril in Osgiliath was what troubled Pharazphel most. Worst of all, she was still a prisoner of her injuries.

_Curse my wounded arm,_ Pharazphel thought to herself.

Had she not been wounded still, Pharazphel would have gladly ridden out to peril and war with Boromir, her true love. She felt it was cruel that she could not share her love's fate, alive or not. Now that she knew Boromir loved her, Pharazphel was ashamed not to be by his side during this dangerous hour. Pharazphel could taste the bittersweet feeling of the moment. She did not know what was bitterer: being separated from Boromir by war or by death. As the bitterness plagued her mind, Pharazphel tried to focus her heart and mind on the sweetness of her and Boromir. She thought back on that short moment when she and Boromir pledged their love and it brought her hope. Pharazphel had hope for the love she and Boromir would share when he returned from war.

_When he returns, not if, _Pharazphel thought to herself, hope in her thoughts.

No matter how much Pharazphel told herself this, her heart and mind were not reassured. There were no messengers of news, good or not. All of the uncertainty and separation was like a poison for Pharazphel. Even worse was the temper of Denethor. Boromir's grey-haired father had shown Pharazphel no courtesy since she spoke to him. Denethor would often go out of his way to be discourteous to Pharazphel, whom he loathed.

Storming into the halls, Denethor sneered at Pharazphel. "I see you are still here, bewitching daughter of Pharazpher."

"Your eyes are not cheated by any spell, my lord," Pharazphel replied.

"I thought you had come to your senses and left for your precious golden Rohan," Denethor said curtly.

"It seems that I have not come to them yet, my lord," Pharazphel said, resentment in her eyes. "Yet you may get your wish when my arm is fully healed."

"May?" Denethor demanded. "No, I will not settle for if I may get my wish. Once you are free of your injuries, you will ride on your way to Rohan and trouble me no more."

"Trouble?" Pharazphel gasped, aghast. "What trouble have I given you? I have only sung your praises as well as those of your sons and people since I awoke."

"You came into my city and made my sons blind to all else that moves," Denethor said in an accusing tone.

"You forget, my lord, that I did not come to your city," Pharazphel countered. "It was not my design to come here. It was the Uruk-hai who took away my strength. It was your sons who decided that I should be here, not me."

"They were foolish to set out to rescue a country that did not come to our aid," Denethor said angrily.

"I know you wish I had died in the den of the Uruk-hai. You do not need to repeat yourself," Pharazphel said, anger in her voice. "Do not blame your sons or me for my coming. I was not afraid to die in the presence of those Uruk-hai. Indeed, I was glad to do so. And, were I not wounded, I would take pleasure in giving my life. You may get your wish yet."

"It depends on the manner in which you leave me," Denethor said coldly.

Pharazphel turned swiftly and left the halls. From the battlements, all was silent. The people of Minas Tirith watched from the high white walls as black smoke billowed from Osgiliath. Tears pricked Pharazphel's eyes as she watched the horrific sight. It was not simply the pain of losing Boromir that troubled her; it was much more than him. Before Pharazphel was born, she had lost. She lost her father, her mother, now possibly her true love. There was not a soul to comfort her in this sad time. Pharazphel wept as she felt alone and for Boromir.

In the midst of the peril, Boromir's heart was with Pharazphel as well. Alas, Boromir did not have the luxury of dwelling his thoughts on his love. Peril called to him at any moment, and he had to answer that call. He spared no thoughts of his love, although he wanted to.

Battalions of Orcs were now reaching the shores of Osgiliath. They came by the hundreds at a time, sparing no soldier who got in their way. Boromir and Faramir fought bravely alongside their men. With sword and bow, the men of Gondor brought down many of Sauron's hordes. Alas, it did not stop the Orcs from continuing to barrel into the city. The men of Gondor began to lose all hope in this moment. Fear seemed to take over their hearts and minds. Boromir and Faramir were resilient, as if they were made of stone.

"Men of Gondor, muster your courage!" Faramir shouted.

"You men are sons of Numenor! You do not know fear! Whatever evil crosses these shores, you will not blench!" Boromir cried.

The men of Gondor stood their ground. They roared in agreement with their captains, infused with a new courage. Despite the overwhelming numbers, the men of Gondor continued to fight with all their being.

"Fight, men! Fight to the last man!" Boromir cried, slashing many foes. "Faramir!"

Faramir heard his brother's call and sprang back, escaping a barrage of arrows the men showered on the Orcs.

"We can't hold them for much longer!" Faramir cried to his brother. "Our numbers are too few!"

"We must drive them back!" Boromir cried.

"We cannot hold! We'll lose the city before we have a chance to drive them out," Faramir said.

"We must hold out until reinforcements arrive," Boromir said.

Though they were outnumbered, Boromir, Faramir, and their men fought desperately to drive the Orcs back to the river. They fought day and night, never stopping to rest. The long days began to take a toll on the men, but they would not falter. The unyielding strength of the Gondorian soldiers began to break the Orcs.

Finally, after a fortnight, there was hope at last. A second battalion of Gondorian soldiers had arrived to give much needed aid to Boromir and Faramir as well as their men. The Captains of Gondor charged their enemies with a cry of courage. The Orcs, terrified and broken, could not hold the charge. Many tried to retreat, but were overtaken. Finally, victory was at hand for the city of Osgiliath.

"Victory! We have victory!" Boromir shouted.

The Men of Gondor shouted in triumph. After a fortnight, the courage of men was tested. To the joy of Gondor, that test was passed with flying colors.

From the high walls of Minas Tirith, the people rejoiced as well. The foes of Mordor were gone thanks to the courage of their soldiers. Pharazphel rejoiced most of all. Her tears of despair changed to tears of relief. At last, after so much uncertainty, there was peace again. Pharazphel smiled as she heard the clear ringing of silver trumpets and the thundering sound of horses. The soldiers of Gondor had returned victorious. Boromir, her true love, was victorious, and alive. Seeing her true love alive brought a new joy to her heart.


	11. Remember Today

Chapter 11: Remember Today

The thunder of horses drew closer to the city of Minas Tirith. The cheers of the people mixed together with the drumming of horses as the soldiers of Gondor returned to the city triumphant. Trumpets filled the air signaling the victorious return of the valiant soldiers.

"Open the gates!" cried the sentry.

The great gates of Minas Tirith opened, and the men of Gondor flooded the city to cries of victory. There were shouts and the sound of the merriment could have been heard in any corner of the world. Pharazphel's heart was pounding to the rhythm of the noise in the city. The sound of the horses, the blaring of the silver trumpets, and the cheering of the people made her pulse race. Most of all, the knowledge that her true love was alive made her heart soar most of all.

Pharazphel searched through the crowd to find her love, Boromir. In all of the celebration, the task was not an easy one. She had to push her way through the merry people in order to find Boromir. Then, Pharazphel heard the cries of the men.

"Boromir! Boromir!" the soldiers of Gondor shouted.

And there he rode, Boromir, captain of Gondor, in his fine armor on his strong horse. His horn was strapped to his armor along with his sword. In his hand, he carried a banner. The banner was of white silk, carrying the image of the White Tree of Gondor. The White Tree had since withered but the people of Gondor still had faith that it would flower again. Hence the White Tree of Minas Tirith was a sign of the people's hope. If ever there were a day the people believed in hope, it was most certainly on this day.

Pharazphel's heart beat faster as she saw Boromir ride into the city banner in hand. Just after Boromir came Faramir and the men of Gondor cheered again.

"Captain Faramir! Faramir!" they shouted joyously.

Pharazphel raced forward to greet Faramir. "Faramir!"

Pharazphel, overcome with relief and joy, heartily embraced Faramir.

"Did you miss me?" Faramir jested.

"It is wonderful to see you and Boromir alive," Pharazphel said in relief. "My heart skipped a beat when you and Boromir went to war. I feared I would be doomed never to see you again."

"You need not fear anymore," Faramir reassured her. "Boromir and I have returned and we are victorious."

"I am glad to know that," Pharazphel said.

Suddenly, the people began to flood their way out of the city. They began to march toward Osgiliath.

"What is going on?" Pharazphel asked, perplexed.

"We march to Osgiliath to celebrate the victory," Faramir explained. "Will you ride with me?"

"Indeed I will, Captain," Pharazphel said with delight.

And so, the people of Gondor flooded into Osgiliath. The city that had been besieged by Sauron was now free. The Orcs who ravaged the city were gone and would not return. Pharazphel rode with Faramir into the city. Both of them watched as Boromir mounted a high mound at the top of the city. Boromir then raised his sword and triumphantly planted the flag of Gondor in the mound.

"Boromir!" the people of the city cried.

"This city was once the jewel of our kingdom," Boromir said joyously, "A place of light and beauty and music. And so it shall be once more! Let the armies of Mordor know this: never again will the land of my people fall into enemy hands!"

Once again, the city cheered in agreement with Boromir.

"This city of Osgiliath has been reclaimed for Gondor!" Boromir shouted proudly.

"For Gondor!" the people cheered.

Pharazphel turned to Faramir. "Your brother proves to have a talent with speech."

"I could not agree more," Faramir said.

Pharazphel and Faramir then hurried through the city and found Boromir.

"Boromir!" Pharazphel cried, her heart leaping.

Unable to contain her joy, Pharazphel leaped into Boromir's arms and kissed him.

"I did fulfill your wish, did I not?" Boromir said.

"Having you in my arms is all I could wish for," Pharazphel said lovingly.

Faramir embraced his brother. "Good speech. Nice and short."

"Leaves more time for drinking!" Boromir replied in jest.

Pharazphel, Boromir and Faramir burst into merry laughter.

"Break out the ale! These men are thirsty!" Boromir shouted.

Cheers filled the city again as barrels of ale were brought into the city. Boromir then handed goblets of ale to his brother and Pharazphel.

"Remember today, little brother, and my love," Boromir said cheerfully, clinking goblets with his brother and Pharazphel, "Today, life is good."

Boromir, Faramir, and Pharazphel then drank from their goblets a little. There was never a happier moment for the three of them. Alas, that happiness was about to be disturbed again.

Faramir grimaced and seemed to shudder. Pharazphel had a glare in her eyes.

Boromir laughed. "What?"

"He's here," Faramir said quietly, as if embarrassed.

From behind them, Denethor came into the city praising the soldiers for their bravery. Pharazphel and Faramir were turned red in the face. They knew that Denethor would not be pleasant. Boromir grimaced as well when he saw his father approaching. He knew what his father would say, and he did not want to hear it again.

"One moment of peace, could he not give us that?" Boromir sighed in annoyance.

"Apparently not," Pharazphel said bitterly. "Of all days to feel the wrath of Denethor son of Ecthelion, why did it have to be today?"

"My father does not pay attention to the occasion, unfortunately," Faramir said glumly.

Denethor came forward proudly. "Where is he? Where is Gondor's finest? Where is my first-born?"

Boromir then turned and heartily embraced Denethor. "Father!"

Denethor gazed at his son proudly. "They say that you vanquished the enemy almost single-handedly."

"They exaggerate," Boromir said humbly. "The victory belongs to Faramir also."

"But for Faramir, this city would still be standing," Denethor said coldly. "Were you not entrusted to protect it?"

"I would have done, but our numbers were too few," Faramir explained.

"Oh, too few. You let the enemy walk in and take it on a whim. Always you cast a poor reflection upon me," Denethor said, his tone like ice.

"That is not my intent," Faramir said sincerely.

"You give him no credit, and yet he tries to do your will," Boromir said, annoyed.

"A poor reflection? If not for Faramir and Boromir, this city would be lost," Pharazphel said, incensed. "Faramir always does your will. I think it is _you_who casts a poor reflection."

"Do not dare be so insolent to me, wench of Rohan!" Denethor said angrily. "You know nothing of this matter."

"My eyes and ears work just fine, my lord, and I know more than you think," Pharazphel replied. "What I do not know is why you seem intent to see flaws in your son who always does your bidding."

Denethor turned away from Pharazphel and followed Boromir.

"He loves you, Father," Boromir said, his voice pleading Denethor for mercy.

"Do not trouble me with Faramir. I know his uses and they are few," Denethor said callously. "The same can be said of that Rohan girl. She has no use to you and has only hindered you since the day she came her."

"I brought her here, and I love her," Boromir said firmly. "She has never troubled you, and you need not take your anger out on her on my account."

"I cannot waste time on that wench," Denethor said dismissively. "We have more urgent things to speak of. Elrond of Rivendell has called a meeting. He will not say why, but I have already guessed its purpose. It is rumored that the weapon of the enemy has been found."

Boromir's eyes widened. "The One Ring. Isildur's Bane."

"It has fallen into the hands of the Elves," Denethor explained. "Everyone will try to claim it: Men, Dwarves, Wizards. We cannot let that happen. This thing must come to Gondor."

Boromir was stunned. "Gondor."

"It's dangerous, I know," Denethor said hastily. "Ever the Ring will seek to corrupt the hearts of lesser men. But you, you are strong. And our need is great. It is our blood which has been spilled, our people who are dying. Sauron is biding his time. He's massing fresh armies. He will return. And when he does, we will be powerless to stop him. You must go. Bring me back this mighty gift."

Boromir had heard enough. "No. My place is with my people, not in Rivendell."

"Would you deny your own father?" Denethor questioned.

Faramir overheard the conversation and brightened. "If there is need to go to Rivendell, send me in his stead."

"You?" Denethor mocked, "Oh, I see. A chance for Faramir, captain of Gondor, to prove his quality. I think not. I would rather send the Rohan woman before I send you, but no. I trust this mission only to your brother. The one who will not fail me."

Denethor turned away and left the three of them. Boromir was stunned. The thoughts of what he just heard raced through his mind. The One Ring, Rivendell, Sauron, all raced through his head like a wheel. Boromir's heart burned him. He did not want to leave Gondor. He had only just survived a terrible battle and wanted to stay.

"I must go to Rivendell," Boromir said, his face unreadable.

"Please, Boromir, let me ride in your stead," Faramir begged.

"No, I cannot imagine Father's temper if you did. It's best that you stay here. I will go to Rivendell, and I will return," Boromir said.

Boromir left Faramir, but Pharazphel followed him.

"Let me ride with you to Rivendell, at least," Pharazphel pleaded.

"No, you have not fully healed," Boromir said.

"It is only my arm that is wounded now," Pharazphel said dismissively.

"I cannot let it be more than that," Boromir said.

"You do not need to protect me, Boromir. Whether it be Sauron's Orcs or your father's temper, I can endure it," Pharazphel reassured him.

"I know I do not need to protect you, but I love you and thus I want to protect you," Boromir said sincerely.

Pharazphel sighed. "Is there nothing you can do to stay?"

Boromir shook his head. "No. Once my father has made his mind, he will not change it."

Pharazphel's heart broke a little, and a tear rolled down her cheek. "You have only just returned to me and now we shall be parted again. It's unbearable."

"Maybe it does not have to be so unbearable," Boromir said brightly.

"What are you speaking of?" Pharazphel asked, perplexed.

"Perhaps we can still have each other and never be parted again," Boromir said.

"Speak not in riddles. What do you speak of? How can we never be parted again?" Pharazphel asked desperately.

"We will never be parted again if you marry me," Boromir said softly.

Pharazphel was stunned. "What?"

"Will you, Pharazphel, daughter of Pharazpher, marry me, Boromir, son of Denethor?" Boromir asked lovingly.

Pharazphel smiled, and this time, happy tears were on her cheek. "Yes, yes. A thousand times more, yes!"

Boromir and Pharazphel embraced each other and their lips met. For that moment, it was as if time had stopped. There was no one in the world but them.

Pharazphel smiled at her fiancé. "There is only one dangerous task that must be done if we are to wed."

"And what is that?" Boromir wanted to know.

"We must tell your father we are engaged," Pharazphel said in jest.

Boromir laughed. "That will indeed be dangerous, but it will be worth it."

Boromir and Pharazphel then filled each other into their arms once more and once again, they only had each other.

A/N: For those of you who love Twilight, I know I just borrowed a line. It was unintentional, but I thought it would fit. I hope you enjoyed this!


	12. Joyous Tidings

Chapter 12: Joyous Tidings

That same day, Pharazphel and Boromir were conspiring about how and when to deliver their news to Denethor. Both of them knew that Denethor would be furious with this match. Boromir knew Denethor's temper more than anyone, save for Faramir. News of his betrothal to Pharazphel would certainly earn him his father's wrath. Boromir paced back and forth nervously as he stressed over this news.

"That is just one thing I did not think about when I asked you for your hand," Boromir said nervously. "I did not think about having to inform my father of all people."

"Well, in your defense, it was a spur of the moment decision," Pharazphel said, trying to be comforting.

"Can you imagine the look on my father's face when we tell him about us?" Boromir asked.

"I can imagine," Pharazphel said, a sly smile crossing her face. "It would be a comeuppance for the way he's treated me. Besides, who said _we _are going to tell him?"

"You are going to be my wife, and as such, we must learn to live with my father," Boromir said.

"Fair enough," Pharazphel said.

Boromir seized his hair, anxiously running his fingers through it. "I cannot think of what we should do."

"We could always marry in secret," Pharazphel suggested.

"No!" Boromir replied hastily. "The only thing worse than telling my father would be keeping it from him."

"It would be wiser to just tell him then," Pharazphel agreed.

"I couldn't bear the look on his face if we lied to him, much less if we didn't," Boromir said fretfully.

"Well, well, well, Boromir, Captain of the White Tower, scared by the wrath of Denethor son of Ecthelion," Pharazphel laughed. "Goodness, Boromir, you've just returned from battling Sauron's minions."

"You do not know my father. I'd gladly face Sauron's hordes again instead of him," Boromir said.

"I am beginning to know him, and I shall once we are married," Pharazphel said.

"If we can wed," Boromir said pessimistically.

"Do not be so glum, Boromir," Pharazphel said comfortingly, "We shall wed and share our lives together. Your father cannot and will not take that from us."

Boromir smiled. "I do love your spirit."

"I should hope so," Pharazphel laughed.

"You have the same spirit my mother had," Boromir commented.

"I am flattered," Pharazphel said gratefully.

"Perhaps my father might see that in you," Boromir said optimistically, "I can only hope he sees why I love you."

"And I hope he accepts why I love you," Pharazphel said lovingly.

"Come, let us share the news with Faramir," Boromir said.

"Ah, a much less dangerous task," Pharazphel laughed.

That evening, Pharazphel and Boromir returned to Minas Tirith to find Faramir. Both were so eager to tell him the news. The city was still celebrating. The people of Minas Tirith were out and about still, and the city was bustling. The enthusiasm of the city gave Pharazphel and Boromir much more excitement.

"Faramir will be overjoyed when he hears the news," Boromir said excitedly.

"I hope so," Pharazphel said, a tiny bit of nervousness in her voice.

"You need not be nervous, my love," Boromir reassured her. "Faramir cares for you like I do. He will be so happy to have you as a sister."

"And I would be glad to have him for a brother," Pharazphel said happily.

Boromir and Pharazphel crept into the palace, hoping not to encounter Denethor.

"My father has already retired for the night. We shall not be disturbed," Boromir informed Pharazphel.

"A night of peace," Pharazphel sighed.

"And a night to think before we tell him the news," Boromir added.

The two of them crept into Faramir's chambers. Faramir was sitting at a desk and he was dressed in nightclothes.

"Ah, there you are," Faramir greeted. "I was wondering where both of you had gone off to. I suppose you've been out celebrating all night, have you?"

"Yes, indeed, we have been celebrating, little brother," Boromir said, sharing a grin with Pharazphel.

"You two are conspiring. I know it," Faramir said wisely. "What sort of plot do you share that brings about such glee?"

"There are not plots, but something has brought about our glee," Pharazphel said.

"Well, speak up now! What is this happiness you speak of?" Faramir asked expectantly.

Boromir beamed. "Brother, you are about to gain a sister today."

Faramir gaped and said nothing.

"Yes, Pharazphel and I shall wed," Boromir continued, still smiling brightly.

"I shall be glad to call you brother, if you shall have me," Pharazphel said humbly.

"Of course I shall!" Faramir said, embracing Boromir and Pharazphel warmly. "These are most certainly joyous tidings. I wish you great joy."

"And gladly we accept your blessing," Boromir said gratefully.

"But it is not my blessing which you need," Faramir countered. "What of Father's blessing?"

Boromir and Pharazphel remained silent.

Faramir gasped. "You have not told him!"

"We thought it would be best to have peace tonight," Pharazphel explained.

"We both know Father's temper and thought it best to tell him tomorrow," Boromir said.

"Wise decision," Faramir said. "Brother, we all know that Father will not accept these tidings gladly as I have."

"Yes, I know," Boromir said.

"What if he does not give you his blessing?" Faramir asked.

"I will wed Pharazphel nonetheless," Boromir said firmly. "No one, not even Father, will stop me from wedding my true love."

"Bravo, my love!" Pharazphel said proudly, "I heartily agree with that."

"I applaud you, too," Faramir agreed. "Even if Father does not have Pharazphel as a daughter, I will be glad to have a sister."

"Boromir said you would say that," Pharazphel laughed.

"Sometimes my brother knows me better than I know myself," Faramir replied.

"Come, let us retire now," Boromir said. "Good night, Faramir."

Boromir and Pharazphel then settled into their chambers. Boromir helped Pharazphel into the bed before he joined her. Both of them dozed off to sleep thinking about tomorrow and beyond. In their dreams, they were merry and thought of the coming joy they would share.

The next morning, Boromir and Pharazphel were preparing to make their announcement to Denethor. Once again, Boromir was as stressed as ever.

"How do I tell him?" Boromir asked.

"When last I knew, you simply open your mouth and speak," Pharazphel said slyly.

"Only you could make me smile with a jest at a time like this," Boromir laughed.

"Boromir, you need not worry about your father," Pharazphel comforted. "If he truly loves you, then he'll give you the world."

"I can only pray he does," Boromir said grimly.

Hand-in-hand, Boromir and Pharazphel entered the chamber. Lord Denethor sat at his stone seat. As they drew nearer, Boromir's heart began to race and he could feel the sweat on his brow. He knew there was no turning aside now.

"Father," he greeted.

"There is my firstborn," Denethor greeted warmly. "I am told that you were out celebrating all night."

"Indeed, I was," Boromir replied.

"Behaving like a true man of Gondor," Denethor praised.

"It was not only the victory at Osgiliath that I celebrated," Boromir said.

"Oh, and what else might you have been celebrating?" Denethor wanted to know.

Boromir took a deep breath. "Father, I should pray for your blessing now. Pharazphel and I are betrothed and we ask your blessing to wed."

"And you find this cause for celebration?" Denethor said pointedly.

"Father, please," Boromir begged.

"You intend to be united with this witless Rohan woman," Denethor snarled. "This is a cause for mourning than celebration. Why do you not slay me instead of torturing me?"

"I have never meant you harm, Father, and I have always done your will," Boromir argued. "Why can you not accept what makes me happy?"

"Boromir has only made a promise to marry me. When last I knew, marriage was not a crime," Pharazphel argued.

"Be silent, you sorceress!" Denethor growled.

"Why do you not accept me? What have I ever done to displease you?" Pharazphel demanded.

"You are born of Rohan, a country that has betrayed us for many years. You are not worthy of a mighty man like my son," Denethor replied coldly.

"Boromir and I think differently than you," Pharazphel countered.

"Why should we unite with Rohan? Why should you join with a woman such as her?" Denethor demanded.

"I love her, Father!" Boromir cried. "I cannot stand to be parted from her again. I shall wed her with or without your blessing. If that means that I must be forever parted from you, then so be it. All I ask is that you give me the gift of your blessing. I shall never ask anything of you again."

There was silence in the room. The temperature in the chamber seemed to drop dramatically.

"You are certain that you love her, my son?" Denethor asked.

"With all of my being," Boromir answered.

"And what of you, Rohan woman?" Denethor questioned.

"Lord Denethor, my name is Pharazphel," Pharazphel corrected him distantly.

"Pharazphel, daughter of Pharazpher, do you love my son?" Denethor questioned.

"With everything in my heart," Pharazphel answered earnestly.

"I do not believe that this woman is worthy of you, my son," Denethor said gravely. "But I love you, and I shall not deny you anything. You have my blessing to wed your true love."

Boromir smiled with great joy. "Thank you, Father!"

Denethor quitted the hall. Boromir and Pharazphel then embraced, spinning madly about the room. Both of them felt as if they had won a great battle.

"Allow me this moment to say 'I told you so'," Pharazphel jested.

"I shall allow anything to my future bride," Boromir said happily.

"Then may I request something of my future husband?" Pharazphel asked.

"Anything," Boromir replied.

"Kiss me," Pharazphel whispered.

Boromir and Pharazphel filled into each other's arms and their lips met. For that time, there was no one in the world but them. For that moment, all that remained was their love.


	13. The Wedding of Boromir and Pharazphel

Chapter 13: The Wedding of Boromir and Pharazphel

There was so much joy between Pharazphel and Boromir. They could not contain their happiness. Now that they had told Denethor, they were overjoyed that he would allow their marriage. Pharazphel and Boromir remained in the steward's halls, thinking of nothing but their happiness.

"Is it possible to die of happiness?" Pharazphel asked giddily.

"I believe so," Boromir answered. "I feel as if I have already."

"I think we both may have died when we consider that your father gave his blessing," Pharazphel said slyly.

"I believe we were only lucky that there was a victory in Osgiliath. If there had not been such a victory, my father would not have been so kind," Boromir said.

"Well, then it is all due to Gondor's finest that Denethor had a change of heart about us," Pharazphel said with a smile.

"Somehow I had faith that he would," Boromir admitted.

"I do not doubt that," Pharazphel agreed. "It is only the words of his firstborn that Lord Denethor hears, while Faramir's words and mine make him deaf."

"Do not think me wrong, my love. I do love my Father as he loves me," Boromir said. "I just do not know why he cannot give us peace."

"His abhorration of Faramir and me has apparently made him blind as well," Pharazphel scoffed.

"That is not true at all," Boromir said wisely. "My father loves Faramir and you. He will come to remember that someday. I have faith in him."

"We can only pray that he will," Pharazphel said. "Let us abandon this gloomy talk. What shall we do now? How shall we celebrate?"

"I believe that we have been celebrating all morning," Boromir laughed. "Let us find Faramir and tell him of our happiness."

Immediately, Boromir and Pharazphel raced up to Faramir's chamber to tell him the news. When they entered, Faramir was dressed in his brown garb adorned with the White Tree of Gondor.

"Good day to you, brother," Faramir greeted. "And how do you and your fiancée fare today?"

"We are filled with a great joy, Brother," Boromir said with a smile.

"Lord Denethor has given us his blessing, and we shall wed!" Pharazphel announced gleefully.

"Well, what glad tidings these are!" Faramir said happily. "Come, let us go down and celebrate."

Faramir, Boromir, and Pharazphel went back down to the white halls.

"Let us have some ale," Boromir said to his servants. "We must drink to this day."

The servants then presented a silver tray with three tall goblets to Boromir, Faramir, and Pharazphel.

"Let us drink to love and family," Boromir said.

The three raised their goblets and drank a little.

"Life has certainly been good these past few days," Boromir sighed.

"Let us hope that life will continue to be good to us," Pharazphel said.

Just then, Denethor entered the halls. "Celebrating, are you?"

"Father, come. Drink with us," Boromir beckoned.

"Can I drink to such a woman as your bride?" Denethor questioned.

"I believe you can as you did grant me your blessing to marry Boromir," Pharazphel replied.

"What makes you think I did that for _you?_" Denethor growled.

"I am well aware that you did not give your blessing for my happiness," Pharazphel said wisely. "Could you pretend to be happy for Boromir's sake?"

"I shall drink to your betrothal only for Boromir's sake and certainly not yours," Denethor said coldly.

Denethor poured some ale and drained his goblet. "May you be happy together."

Denethor then stormed out of the halls.

"Father!" Boromir called to him.

Boromir caught Denethor in one of the corridors of the castle.

"Why do you scorn her, Father?" Boromir demanded. "All she has done is make me happy. Why do you treat her as if she is a villain?"

"As I told you, she is born of Rohan. The same Rohan that has left us alone on the fields of battle while our people died," Denethor said callously.

"But I love her, Father!" Boromir argued. "Why can you not be happy that Pharazphel is my bride?"

"I am not happy that she is," Denethor answered, "That does not mean that I am entirely without some happiness. I am glad that my firstborn has found love. I am only happy for you because you are my son."

"There will be a day when you will learn to love Pharazphel as I have," Boromir said, his voice unreadable.

Boromir then quitted the corridor.

That night, Boromir and Pharazphel lay together, dreaming about their wedding.

"In only one more week, we shall be man and wife!" Pharazphel said happily. "Just think of it."

"I can do more than think of it," Boromir said happily.

"Your Father did not seem pleased at all today," Pharazphel said.

"He was very pleased," Boromir corrected her.

"He was?" Pharazphel asked in surprise.

"He is happy that I found a true love in you," Boromir told her.

"Well then, I am glad to know that," Pharazphel said with a smile. "I knew he would be happy to have me."

"I am happy to have you right now and forever," Boromir whispered lovingly.

After a week that had seemed as a lifetime of Men, the wedding of Boromir and Pharazphel was finally at hand. During this time, Pharazphel completely recovered from her injuries. Guests surrounded the White City, eager to see their future Steward wed. Music filled the city as well as dancing. The White City seemed to glow with all the glee on that June day.

Boromir waited at the altar with Faramir at his side.

"Are you nervous, Brother?" Faramir asked.

"No, not at all," Boromir said firmly.

"It is too late to turn aside now," Faramir jested.

"I would not turn aside from today for anything in the world," Boromir said happily.

Boromir turned and saw his bride walking toward him with Denethor at her side. Pharazphel did not seem to walk, but to Boromir, she seemed to be floating. Her dress was as white as a cloud with gold about the hem. To Boromir, Pharazphel looked as beautiful as an elf-maiden. Denethor then laid the hand of Pharazphel into the hand of Boromir.

"I, Boromir, son of Denethor, shall take thee, Pharazphel, daughter of Pharazpher as my wife. I shall love you and no other for all the ages of this world," Boromir vowed.

"I, Pharazphel, daughter of Pharazpher, shall take thee, Boromir, son of Denethor, to be my husband. I shall love you and no other for all the ages of this world," Pharazphel promised.

Boromir and Pharazphel then placed gold rings on their fingers. Boromir and Pharazphel were then blessed with water and, at last, declared husband and wife. Boromir and Pharazphel then filled into each other's arms and their kiss was filled with all the love they had for each other. The people of Minas Tirith applauded, but to Boromir and Pharazphel, they were the only ones in the city. There was never a happier moment.

Later, there were many festivities. There was a great feast held to celebrate Pharazphel and Boromir's marriage.

Denethor raised his glass. "This day is blessed, as I have gained a daughter at last. May Pharazphel and Boromir be blessed for all the ages of this world. To Pharazphel and Boromir!"

Boromir then whispered to Pharazphel, "Remember today, my love. Today, life is good."

Later, there was music and dancing. Boromir watched his bride dance and his laughter was heard often. Faramir danced merrily, as he was a lover of music. Faramir happily danced with his new sister.

"Are you still glad to have me for a sister?" Pharazphel questioned.

"Indeed, I am," Faramir said with much pleasure.

"And I am glad to call you brother," Pharazphel agreed. "You dance quite beautifully, Faramir."

"Dancing and music have been my true enjoyments. My brother does not share that, I fear," Faramir said.

"Is that so?" Pharazphel laughed. "Well then, today I shall have my husband dance with me."

Pharazphel then took Boromir by the hand and began to dance with him.

"Are you sure this is wise?" Boromir asked in jest. "I do not take much pleasure in dance or music."

"Only today you shall," Pharazphel said, moving to the merry music.

"For today and for you, I shall," Boromir said. "Are you happy, my darling wife?"

"Perfectly happy," Pharazphel said tenderly.

"Now that we are wed, nothing will separate us," Boromir said. "We are one now."

"I trust you to keep your promise, my love," Pharazphel whispered.

"You have my word," Boromir promised.

Later that night, Boromir carried Pharazphel to their chambers. There, they became lost in their love. The moment was one of pure bliss for them. Thus it came to pass that Pharazphel and Boromir were now wed.


	14. Journey to Rivendell

Chapter 14: Journey to Rivendell

The next morning, Pharazphel and Boromir awoke in each other's arms. For a long time, they stared into their eyes and smiled. Finally, there was a moment of peace for them. Denethor would not trouble them nor would the dangers of the world. For this moment, the only thing that remained was their love and nothing more.

"Good morning, my darling husband," Pharazphel whispered.

"Good morning, beloved wife," Boromir replied.

"We shall remember this day as the day that we became bound to each other," Pharazphel declared.

"Indeed. Now nothing shall ever separate us again," Boromir said.

"Just as you promised," Pharazphel said.

"It is part of being a good husband," Boromir said.

"You are not a good husband, my love," Pharazphel said. "You are a perfect husband."

"And to me, you are perfect," Boromir whispered.

The sun would not show itself on this day. The day was grey as it was before. The city was quiet on this day, but it was an uneasy quiet. The uneasiness was caused by the sound of the Mountain of Fire bursting and the Great Eye keeping watch.

The uncertainty in the climate and the city did not deter Boromir and Pharazphel. They were determined to celebrate their love on this day. Nothing, not the gray clouds nor the watchful Eye of Sauron would impede them.

Boromir and Pharazphel sat up in bed, dressed in their nightclothes.

"What shall we do now that we are married?" Boromir asked.

"Let us go into the woods of Lorien," Pharazphel suggested. "I hear that those woods are some of the fairest on this earth."

"Do you mean now?" Boromir asked.

"Of course, my love," Pharazphel replied. "We are wed now. I do not think you'll be expected to return so soon."

"We shall visit Lorien. I promise," Boromir said earnestly. "But we do not have the time to do so."

"How much time do we have?" Pharazphel asked.

"At least a month, at the most," Boromir answered.

Pharazphel sighed.

"What is it?" Boromir wanted to know.

"I only thought that we would have more time together," Pharazphel said bitterly.

"Do not be so glum now," Boromir said cheerfully. "This is a happy time."

Boromir then tossed Pharazphel some clothes.

"What are you doing?" Pharazphel asked.

"Well, we only have at least a month we shall make it last," Boromir said happily.

Pharazphel smiled brightly. "We shall make it last."

The grey sky did not deter Pharazphel and Boromir. The merry couple was intent on spending their month as they would. Just after they had dressed, Boromir and Pharazphel sped down to the stables and took two, lively horses. They rode side-by-side through the levels of the city and out to the fields of Pelannor.

"Will the skies be this gray all the time?" Pharazphel asked in jest.

"Yes," Boromir answered. "But we do not need sun."

"No, to me, you are the sun," Pharazphel said lovingly.

Pharazphel then took Boromir to the middle of the field.

"Pharazphel, what are we doing?" Boromir wanted to know.

"I am going to show you how to dance," Pharazphel said.

"You know that I do not care much of dancing or music," Boromir said.

"What's the matter? Suddenly the brave Boromir is frightened by a little dance?" Pharazphel jested.

"I did not say that," Boromir said.

"Then why don't you prove it?" Pharazphel asked.

Reluctantly, Boromir joined Pharazphel. He did not enjoy the art of dancing, but truly it was only so he could save face.

"Protecting your pride, are we?" Pharazphel asked.

"You know that I could never refuse you," Boromir replied.

"Hence why we are husband and wife," Pharazphel laughed.

Pharazphel then instructed Boromir how to dance. She placed his hand around her waist and took his other hand.

"One, two, three," Pharazphel counted as she and Boromir circled.

Suddenly, Boromir stepped on her foot. "Sorry."

Then, Boromir stepped on her right foot. Finally, Boromir tripped and nearly fell.

"No wonder you do not dance. You are so clumsy!" Pharazphel giggled.

Boromir feigned another trip and fell, taking Pharazphel with him. Pharazphel and Boromir's laughter seemed to overpower the sounds of the fields. They did not even hear the deafening explosions from neighboring Mordor. For that moment, their laughter was the most beautiful sound to hear.

The bliss of Boromir and Pharazphel's honeymoon seemed to last as long as an age of the earth. Alas, it was not so. After less than a month, Boromir and Pharazphel's honeymoon was over. It was time for Boromir to leave for Rivendell. Boromir awoke the next morning and saw Pharazphel sleeping next to him. Hoping to slip out unnoticed, he quickly dressed in his suit of mail with his horn, a large shield, and a long sword. Just as Boromir headed for his horse, he heard a voice.

"Did you truly believe that you could have slipped out unnoticed by _me?"_

Boromir turned. The voice was no one else but Pharazphel.

"I did not want to wake you," Boromir said, embarrassed at his failed attempt.

"You didn't want to say goodbye," Pharazphel countered.

Boromir sighed. "I hoped that I would not cause you any pain."

"I always thought men were so strange," Pharazphel laughed. "You think that by slipping away from your women you are sparing them pain."

"Forgive me," Boromir said. "I only wish it was Faramir going in my place. He is worthier of the task. He is eager for it."

"I never knew men could be so foolish until I met your father," Pharazphel said bitterly. "A man so cold that he is willing to separate his firstborn so soon after his marriage. Men are altogether a ponderous race."

"I assure you that I am not so ponderous," Boromir said.

"I know that you are not your father," Pharazphel said.

Boromir made a pained expression. "You do not jest when you speak of my father as such. I do not wish to leave my bride."

"I'm afraid that even a man such as you has no say," Pharazphel said glumly. "I'm afraid your father's will rules."

Pharazphel smiled. "But do not let your heart be troubled, my love. There is still some joy to be taken from these last few moments."

"What joy do you speak of?" Boromir asked, his voice rising. "Have you managed to put my father under your spell?"

Pharazphel laughed. "That I have yet to do. The joy I speak of is that I carry your child in my belly."

Boromir was stunned. For a long moment, all he could do was stare at Pharazphel. The words were stolen from him. Finally, he found his voice. "Are you certain?"

"What an odd reply from a man, even my own husband!" Pharazphel exclaimed. "I bring you tidings of your child and you reply, "are you certain?""

Unable to speak, Boromir snatched Pharazphel and kissed her with as much passion as he could.

"That's better," Pharazphel laughed. "I take it that my tidings bring you joy?"

"You bring me joy every day," Boromir replied. "And now, so will our child."

"Then go now, my love," Pharazphel whispered. "And when you return, you will have your wife and child waiting for you."

"I shall return before you know it," Boromir replied. "Until then, remember today, my love."

"I will," Pharazphel replied.

Boromir knelt and kissed Pharazphel's belly. With one last kiss from his wife, Boromir turned and went on his way.

That afternoon, the city was somberly quiet. Faramir was waiting for Boromir. "I only wish I could go in your stead."

Boromir clasped his brother's shoulder. "Father will remember your worth in the end, brother. But I need you here now."

"Why? Is there some great evil drawing nearer?" Faramir asked.

"No, quite the opposite," Boromir said happily. "Pharazphel is carrying my child."

"A child!" Faramir cried with joy. "Much joy to both of you, brother."

"Thank you," Boromir said gratefully. "Until I return, I need you to look after Pharazphel and our child."

"I shall do as you bid, brother, but I think Pharazphel is a capable woman," Faramir said.

"It is not of some great evil I speak. It is only a matter of time before Father learns of our news if does not know already," Boromir said.

"In that case, I shall tend to my sister as best I can until you return," Faramir said.

"I know you will," Boromir said proudly.

Faramir watched as Boromir mounted his horse. The hot, July air was cooled by a breeze that made the banner of Gondor fly. Boromir gazed up at the flag and then at Faramir. There was so much bitter-sweetness at their parting.

Boromir smiled at Faramir. "Remember today, little brother."

With that, Boromir trekked out of the city. Faramir watched as his brother journeyed out, and he was as still as stone.

For the next three months, Boromir made his journey on horse to the Elven sanctuary of Rivendell. The journey was quite tedious. Boromir was always wary of any predators that would wish him harm. He would travel through the plains of Edoras. The sight of the golden Edoras made Boromir wish his wife was with him. Boromir then pressed on through forests and hills.

One October evening, he came across a great green and stone city. There was a stream that would have calmed the most sorrowful of hearts. The courtyard was carpeted with flowers of red and gold that the city seemed to make the city bright. All around, there was lush green that made the city look like an emerald. Many sculptures decorated the courtyard and beyond. Boromir was taken aback and breathless at the beauty and majesty of the city.

An Elf approached him. This elf had the beauty and agelessness as all elves possessed. He was regal in demeanor, and Boromir knew he was of high position. He wore great, blue robes and there was a circlet upon his head.

"Lord Elrond," Boromir greeted, bowing.

Lord Elrond bowed. "Welcome to Rivendell, Master Boromir, son of Denethor."

**A/N: I apologize for the extremely long wait! I hope you enjoy this chapter and what follows. Thank you to my faithful reviews, you know who you are. I appreciate it so much. Thank you! **


	15. Tidings to Denethor

Chapter 15: Tidings to Denethor

During the months that Boromir was gone, Pharazphel and Faramir were tending to the coming addition to their family. The days after Boromir's departure were challenging for both of them. The trouble came from Denethor and the decision to tell him about his grandchild. Pharazphel and Faramir knew that Denethor would not be pleased when he heard of Pharazphel's pregnancy. However, they knew that keeping the secret would be worse.

One night after Boromir's parting, Pharazphel found that she could not sleep. She was troubled by thoughts about how Denethor would react when he learned of the baby. Faramir entered and saw that she was troubled. Just as he promised Boromir, Faramir did his best to help his sister-in-law.

"I see that sleep eludes you," Faramir said.

"Indeed," Pharazphel said wearily. "The more I chase sleep, the more it evades me."

"What has you so troubled, sister?" Faramir asked attentively.

"I am afraid that we both know the answer to that, my brother," Pharazphel said gloomily.

Faramir nodded in understanding. "You have not yet told Father of your joyous tidings."

"I doubt _he_ will find them so joyous," Pharazphel countered. "I know that he must be told, but I do not wish to endure his cruel speech against my child."

"Pharazphel, you are so gloomy and you should be merry," Faramir said gently. "You are married to my brother and carrying his child. You should be the happiest woman in the known world."

"You speak wisely, yet I find no comfort in your counsel," Pharazphel said glumly. "How can I be happy when I know that your Father will not accept me or any child I bear?"

"My dear Pharazphel, you need not worry about Father," Faramir comforted. "As long as you love your child that is all that truly matters. His love will come, I assure you."

"How can you be so certain?" Pharazphel asked.

"I know he loves Boromir," Faramir replied. "If he loves his son, he will love any grandchild he has."

Pharazphel smiled. "That does seem reasonable."

Faramir clasped Pharazphel's hand. "You and the child need your rest. Throw off your troubles tonight and be merry."

"I truly am quite happy to be a mother," Pharazphel replied.

Faramir held Pharazphel's hand. "I shall make a pact with you. Tonight, you shall sleep and dream of Boromir and your child. Tomorrow, I will stand by your side and we will tell Denethor about his grandchild."

Pharazphel was touched. "You would do that for me? You know that your father will not be pleased with you standing beside a woman of Rohan."

"I desire to please my father, but I made a promise to Boromir," Faramir said. "He told me to look after you and his child. I intend to keep my promise, even if it means further angering my father."

Pharazphel smiled. "You are truly a man of high quality, Faramir. I'm glad to have you with me."

"I am glad to be of service to my family," Faramir said earnestly.

The next day, Pharazphel awoke from a blissful sleep. She had all but forgotten of her task to tell Denethor of his grandchild. She knew that Denethor would be angered greatly, but she did not care. She loved her child as she loved Boromir, and Denethor would not change that. Pharazphel dressed and met Faramir outside her room.

"Are you prepared?" Faramir asked.

"To be truthful, no," Pharazphel said honestly.

Faramir chuckled. "Good gracious, Pharazphel! You've been tortured by the Uruk-Hai of Isengard, and you're afraid of facing my father."

"The Uruk-Hai are not nearly as intimidating as your father," Pharazphel said bluntly. "I would rather face one-thousand of Saruman's forces than face your father's wrath."

"You are truly a woman of courage if you are willing to stand before my father," Faramir laughed.

Pharazphel sighed. "Where is Lord Denethor?"

"In the hall. Let us tell him our tidings," Faramir replied.

Pharazphel seemed to wince. Faramir noticed her skin turn white.

Faramir held her hand to comfort her. "I will be right by your side."

"I wish Boromir were here," Pharazphel said quietly. "but if I cannot have Boromir by my side, I am glad to have you in his stead."

"Come, Pharazphel," Faramir beckoned.

Pharazphel entered the hall of Lord Denethor. As she walked, she felt as if she was walking to her doom. She knew that for the sake of Boromir and her child, she had to muster all the courage she had. Denethor sat in his high seat above her.

Pharazphel bowed low. "Hail, Denethor, my lord and father."

Denethor did not acknowledge Pharazphel or Faramir.

Pharazphel swallowed her fear and spoke again. "I have most joyous tidings this morning, my lord."

Denethor glared at Pharazphel. "I doubt that any tidings from you could be as joyous."

"Father," Faramir said slowly. "I beg you to hear Pharazphel out."

Denethor glared at Faramir and did not speak.

"Before Boromir departed, I learned the happiest news," Pharazphel said. "I am carrying Boromir's child. I bear you a grandchild."

Denethor glared daggers at Pharazphel and Faramir. "You think this is joyous news? A Rohan woman bears a brat of Rohan and expects me to take pride in it?"

"No, not a child of Rohan, but a child of Gondor," Pharazphel said hastily.

"Father, please listen to Pharazphel," Faramir pleaded.

"Silence!" Denethor shouted. "I will not here a word from this Rohan wench. And you are a fool to stand beside her."

"I am only doing as Boromir asked of me," Faramir said firmly.

"Boromir has been put under her spell!" Denethor said angrily. "Now she uses a child to trap him."

"I assure you this child is no trap," Pharazphel said.

"Silence, you Rohan wench!" Denethor spat. "Know this: I shall not take any joy in your brat's coming. If Boromir were wise, he would have left you to your fate at the hands of Saruman's hordes. Now get out, get out!"

"Father, please," Faramir begged.

"Get out!" Denethor shouted.

Pharazphel stood firm. "I know that you do not love me. I know you do not love your grandchild, but know this: I love Boromir. I will love him even if it is against your wishes. I will love our child even if you do not. I do not need your love, and I shall not ask for it."

Denethor sneered. "You are bold to speak to me in that tongue. Get out."

Pharazphel and Faramir left the hall without a second thought. Pharazphel did not blench, but Faramir was concerned for her nonetheless.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

Pharazphel nodded. "Yes, I am. It will take more than your father's harsh words to wound me."

"I am truly sorry for how he behaved," Faramir said sincerely.

"You need not be sorry for your father's actions," Pharazphel said. "I intend to have my child, and I do not need his blessing to do so. I have Boromir's blessing and that is more than enough."

"I think Boromir would feel the same," Faramir agreed. "He would be so proud of you for standing up to our Father. I am certain he misses your company."

"I am missing his company as well," Pharazphel said sadly.

"Do not be so glum," Faramir said brightly. "Time moves quickly. Boromir will return, and you shall be with your child before you know it."

Pharazphel smiled. "Thank you, Faramir."

"For what?" Faramir asked. "I have done nothing."

"You stood by my side today," Pharazphel said appreciatively. "I am forever thankful and I am certain Boromir would be as well."

"I am glad to fulfill my brother's wishes," Faramir said humbly.

"I hope time moves just as quickly as you say it will," Pharazphel said hopefully. "Boromir will be home sooner than he left."

"I think you are quite right," Faramir agreed.

**A/N: Aww, a bit of a sweet moment. I apologize for the long wait. I've been quite ill lately. I appreciate your patience. Thank you for all the lovely reviews. I appreciate them very much. Enjoy! **


	16. The Council of Elrond

Chapter 16: The Council of Elrond

After three months, Boromir finally reached the sanctuary of Rivendell. He was sent on a mission by his father, Lord Denethor to learn news of the One Ring. Boromir greatly feared the news of Isildur's Bane, and he did not wish to go. Denethor held firm to his desire that Boromir should journey to Rivendell instead of Faramir. That night, as Boromir roamed the halls of Rivendell, he thought about his wife, Pharazphel. Before he departed on his journey, Boromir learned that Pharazphel was expecting his child. Boromir knew that Pharazphel would be four months along in her pregnancy at this time, as she conceived on their wedding night. He worried about Pharazphel and his child. Boromir knew he did not have to worry about Pharazphel's safety, as she was a strong and capable woman. What troubled Boromir was the temperament of his father toward Pharazphel. Denethor never approved of Boromir's marriage to Pharazphel. Boromir was troubled by how Denethor would react to his unborn grandchild. Boromir put those thoughts out of his mind. He knew that Faramir would tend to Pharazphel as well as her unborn child. More than anything, Boromir wished that he could be by Pharazphel's side as she bore his child. Boromir kept his hope that he would return to Gondor with Pharazphel and a child waiting for him.

Boromir roamed the halls of the elven sanctuary. He was taken by the imagery of Isildur, the last High King of Gondor, raising his sword to The Dark Lord Sauron. Boromir then saw a man sitting behind him. The man was dressed in green, Elvish garb, and he read a book.

"You are no Elf," Boromir said wisely.

"The men of the South are welcome here," the stranger replied.

"Who are you?" Boromir asked.

"I'm friend to Gandalf the Grey," said the man.

"We are here on common purpose, friend," Boromir commented.

Boromir then caught sight of a statue. On an altar, Boromir was amazed to find the shards of a sword.

"The shards of Narsil," Boromir said in awe. "The blade that cut the ring from Sauron's hand."

Boromir took the broken hilt and ran his fingers along the tip. The blade bit into his finger, drawing blood.

"Still sharp," Boromir said in wonder. "but no more than a broken hilt."

Boromir hastily placed the broken sword back on the altar. As he did, he heard it fall to the ground with a clang.

The next morning, the Council of Elrond was assembled. Lord Elrond had called together an assembly of Elves, Dwarves, and Men. Gandalf the Grey was also in attendance. There was also a strange being that Boromir had not seen before. He had bushy hair on his feet and deep blue eyes. Boromir learned that this being was called a Hobbit and his name was Frodo Baggins.

Lord Elrond stood up and spoke. "Strangers from distant lands, friends of old. You have been summoned here to answer the threat of Mordor. Middle-earth stands upon the brink of destruction. None can escape it. You will unite, or you will fall. Each race is bound to this fate, this one doom. Bring forth the ring, Frodo."

The little Hobbit stood up and slowly placed a golden ring on the stone pedestal before the council. The council whispered in surprise and awe of the One Ring before them.

"So it is true," Boromir said in awe. "In a dream, I saw the eastern sky grow dark, but in the West a pale light lingered. A voice was crying: "You doom is near at hand. Isildur's Bane is found."

Boromir rose and approached the pedestal, reaching out for the ring. "Isildur's Bane."

"Boromir!" Elrond cried out.

Gandalf then roared out a language that seemed to shake the very ground. "Ash nazg durbatuluk, ash nazg gimbatul, ash nazg thrakatuluk agh burzum-ishi krimpatul!"

Boromir sank back to his chair. The rest of the council was greatly disturbed by the speech Gandalf uttered.

"Never before has anyone dared uttered those words of that tongue here in Imladris," Lord Elrond said gravely.

"I do not ask your pardon, Master Elrond," Gandalf said. "For the Black Speech of Mordor may yet be heard in every corner of the West. The Ring is altogether evil!"

"It is a gift. A gift to the foes of Mordor. Why not use this Ring?" Boromir said passionately.

Boromir was on his feet again. "Long has my father, the Steward of Gondor, kept the forces of Mordor at bay. By the blood of our people, are your lands kept safe. Give Gondor the weapon of the enemy. Let us use it against him!"

"You cannot wield it. None of us can," the strange man said. "The One Ring answers to Sauron alone. It has no other master."

"And what would a Ranger know of this matter?" Boromir questioned.

An Elf stood up. His name was Legolas, son of Thranduil. "This is no mere Ranger," he declared. "He is Aragorn, son of Arathorn. You owe him your allegiance."

Boromir was stunned. The lost heir to Gondor's throne sat before him all this time. "Aragorn. This is Isildur's heir?"

"An heir to the throne of Gondor," Legolas replied.

"Sit down, Legolas," Aragorn said in Elvish.

Boromir sneered. "Gondor has no king. Gondor needs no king."

Boromir took his seat again, never taking his eyes off Aragorn.

"Aragorn is right. We cannot use it," Gandalf said wisely.

Lord Elrond stood. "You have only once choice. The Ring must be destroyed."

Boromir tried to hide his dismay. His father's words echoed in his mind: _Bring me back this kingly gift. _Boromir did not want to disappoint his father. He began to see the Ring as a useful weapon to the enemy. A weapon that could save his people.

"What are we waiting for?" Gimli the Dwarf said hastily.

Without a second thought, Gimli brought his ax down on the Ring and was thrown backward.

"The Ring cannot be destroyed, Gimli son of Gloin, by any craft that we here possess," Elrond said sagely. "The Ring was made in the fires of Mount Doom. Only there can it be unmade. It must be taken deep into Mordor and cast back into the fiery chasm from whence it came. One of you must do this."

"One does not simply walk into Mordor," Boromir said pessimistically. "Its Black Gates are guarded by more than just Orcs. There is evil there that does not sleep. And the Great Eye is ever watchful. It is a barren wasteland, riddled with fire, ash, and dust. The very air you breathe is a poisonous fume. Not with ten-thousand men could you do this. It is folly."

"Have you heard nothing Lord Elrond has said?" Legolas said angrily. "The Ring must be destroyed."

"And I suppose you think you're the one to do it?" questioned Gimli.

"And if we fail, what then? What happens when Sauron takes back what is his?" Boromir asked hopelessly.

"I will be dead before I see the Ring in the hands of an Elf!" Gimli declared.

Before long, the Council was bickering amongst themselves. Gandalf's voice rang out the loudest. "Can you not understand? Sauron's power grows. None of you can escape it! You'll all be destroyed!"

Then, the voice of Frodo was able to overcome the arguing of the council. "I will take it! I will take the Ring to Mordor. Though I do not know the way."

The Council stared in awe at the Hobbit. It was hard to imagine one so small having such a great burden.

Gandalf stepped forward. "I will help you bear this burden, Frodo Baggins. As long as it is yours to bear."

Aragorn stood up. "If by my life or death, I can protect you, I will."

Aragorn knelt before Frodo. "You have my sword."

"And you have my bow," Legolas added.

"And my ax!" Gimli chimed in.

"You carry the fates of us all, little one. If this is indeed the will of the Council, then Gondor will see it done," Boromir said earnestly.

"Here!" cried out another voice. It was Samwise Gamgee, friend to Frodo Baggins. "Mr. Frodo's not going anywhere without me."

"No, indeed. It is highly impossible to separate you even when he is summoned to a secret council and you are not," Elrond said with amusement.

Two more Hobbits, known as Merry and Pippin came running forward.

"Wait! We're coming, too!" Merry exclaimed. "You'd have to send us home tied up in a sack to stop us."

"Anyway, you need people of intelligence on this sort of mission...quest...thing," Pippin said.

"Well, that rules you out, Pip," Merry said in jest.

Elrond gazed at the company. "Nine companions. So be it. You shall be the Fellowship of the Ring."

"Great!" Pippin said excitedly. "Where are we going?"

**A/N: I do not own anything except my OC characters. I hope you are all enjoying this story. Thank you for the lovely reviews. It meas so much to me! **


	17. Beginning the Journey

Chapter 17: Beginning the Journey

It had been five months since Boromir unwillingly left his home of Gondor. Pharazphel and Faramir could not believe how much time had passed since Boromir left them. Both of them wished that they could be beside Boromir while he was in Rivendell. Faramir was deemed less worthy for the journey by his father, Denethor, as was Pharazphel. Pharazphel was also unable to journey due to her pregnancy. In the five months since Pharazphel announced the joyous news to her husband, she began to grow a large, round belly. Pharazphel greatly missed Boromir, but bearing his child gave her hope and happiness while she awaited his return. Pharazphel had hope that she would soon be reunited with her husband and have his child.

The five months since Boromir's departure were overwhelming for Faramir and Pharazphel. Pharazphel's growing belly made it more difficult to move about day by day. The child also proved to be very strong and restless as it kicked Pharazphel every waking hour. Although Pharazphel was a strong woman, bearing a child took its toll on her.

Another unbearable aspect of the five months was Denethor. Denethor was always shut up in his halls and rarely acknowledged Faramir or Pharazphel. When Pharazphel revealed her pregnancy to Denethor, he was only more callous to Pharazphel than ever before. Faramir also bore the brunt of Denethor's wrath for his aid to Pharazphel. Denethor thought him to be traitorous for aiding a woman of Rohan during her pregnancy. Faramir paid no heed to his father's taunts. Boromir charged him to look after his wife while she carried the child. Faramir was determined to fulfill his brother's wishes.

During the five months, Faramir and Pharazphel began to wonder about the gender of their newest addition. Pharazphel had gone to the Houses of Healing to rest and have more news of her unborn child. Faramir was not far from her side. He sat by Pharazphel's bed and took her hand.

"Good morning, sister," Faramir greeted warmly.

"Good morning, Faramir," Pharazphel replied.

"How does the little one fare today?" Faramir asked.

"Ioreth said that the child should be very healthy," Pharazphel said. "Although, I feel that I did not need her word. I already know that the child is strong. The child grows every day and kicks in my belly every hour. I have no rest."

"Ah, then the child is just like his mother and father," Faramir commented.

"Yes, it is," Pharazphel agreed. "Every time I feel it move, I am reminded of Boromir. Although, I must admit, bearing his child is becoming an overwhelming task."

"Well, the both of you agreed to do it," Faramir laughed. "If I may say, I know that my brother is a valiant man, but even he could not endure bearing a child and neither could I."

Pharazphel laughed heartily as did Faramir. "I would not advise it on both of you. Bearing a child is a daunting task, especially if it is the child of Boromir."

"You certainly have risen to the challenge bravely," Faramir said. "Do you know what it is yet?"

"I cannot know for certain until it is born," Pharazphel said. "Ioreth has tended to many women with child. She tells me that because I carry the child low in my belly, it may be a boy."

"If it is a boy, he'll have the strength of his mother and the stubbornness of his father," Faramir said.

"I feel it must be a boy," Pharazphel said. "Ioreth knows more about healing than I do."

Faramir placed his hand on Pharazphel's belly. "Have you thought of a name?"

"You may be surprised to find that I have had plenty of time to think as I lay here," Pharazphel said wittily.

"It does not surprise me at all," Faramir laughed. "What names did you think of?"

"If it is a boy, than he shall be Taramir," Pharazphel declared. "If it is a girl, she will be Pharazith."

Faramir nodded. "Those are strong names, indeed."

"I wanted my child to be strong, like its father," Pharazphel said. "I dearly want Boromir to be with me now."

"He will be soon enough," Faramir reassured her.

"I cannot thank you enough," Pharazphel said sincerely. "for all that you have done. You have stood by my side for so long since Boromir departed."

"I am glad to do so," Faramir said. "I am doing as my brother bid me. Until his return, I shall be there for you and my niece or nephew."

Pharazphel stroked her belly. "I hope Boromir's return comes sooner rather than later."

"It will, Pharazphel," Faramir reassured her.

Pharazphel smiled and felt her baby kick inside of her. She trusted Faramir's word and he had not been false to her. However, the strong kicks inside Pharazphel reminded her that time was growing short. She hoped that Boromir would return to meet his child.

Meanwhile, Boromir had prepared for his long journey. He and eight other members of the Council had assembled to become the Fellowship of the Ring. This fellowship would guide the Hobbit, Frodo Baggins, on his quest to destroy the One Ring. Boromir greatly protested against destroying the One Ring as he remembered his father's words before he departed. Although Boromir desired to bring the One Ring back to Gondor, he would not stand against the will of the Council.

Boromir and the rest of the Fellowship had assembled at dawn. All of them were lightly clad, as their journey was meant to be kept in secrecy. Boromir only carried a round shield, a sword, and the Horn of Gondor on his belt. In the courtyard of Rivendell, Lord Elrond bade the Fellowship farewell.

"The Ring-bearer is setting out on a quest to Mount Doom," Lord Elrond said. "You who travel with him: no oath nor bond is made to go further than you will. May the blessings of Elves, Men, and all Free Folk, go with you. Farewell."

With Lord Elrond's blessing, the Fellowship departed. For many days, the company trekked through the borders of Rivendell. As Boromir journeyed farther, his mind was always on Pharazphel and their unborn child. He greatly desired to be by her side while bearing his child. Boromir knew that once his task was done, he would be free to return to his wife and child. This thought kept Boromir's spirits lifted.

The Fellowship rested and made camp on the east of the Misty Mountains. During this time, Boromir grew a friendship with two Hobbits, Meriadoc

Brandybuck and Peregrine Took. This Hobbits referred to themselves as Merry and Pippin. While they made camp at the mountains, Boromir took to teaching the Hobbits swordplay. Boromir was impressed with the spirit of the two Hobbits, especially at the Council. He was amazed how quickly they learned the sword.

Boromir squared of with Merry and Pippin, and the pair kept up with his movements expertly.

"Two, one, five! Good! Very good," Boromir praised.

Boromir continued to engage Merry and Pippin, going faster and faster as the Hobbits improved.

"Two, one, five! Faster!" Boromir shouted.

The faster their swords clashed, the more adept Merry and Pippin became, which amused Boromir greatly. Suddenly, while dueling Pippin, Boromir's sword slipped and bit into Pippin's finger.

"Oh, sorry!" Boromir apologized.

Pippin kicked Boromir's knee with his hairy foot. Merry collided his sword into Boromir's hip. Boromir found himself forced to the ground with the tiny Hobbits on top of him.

"Get him!" Merry cried. "For The Shire!"

"Hold him! Hold him down, Merry!" Pippin cried.

Boromir laughed merrily as he wrestled with the two, young Hobbits. Aragorn, who had been watching and smoking his pipe, attempted to break up the scuffle.

"Gentleman, that's enough!" he cried.

Before he could intervene, Merry and Pippin grabbed his legs and tossed him in the air. Aragorn landed flat on his back, causing Boromir, Merry, and Pippin to burst out in raucous laughter. Suddenly, a dark cloud came into view. The cloud looked strange to the Fellowship.

"What is that?" Samwise Gamgee asked.

"Nothing. It's just a wisp of cloud," Gimli said, unperturbed.

Boromir stopped scuffling with Merry and Pippin and gazed suspiciously at the cloud. "It's moving fast against the wind."

"Crebain from Dunland!" cried Legolas the Elf.

"Hide!" shouted Aragorn.

The Fellowship scattered hastily to hide their camp. They doused the fires and spread out, taking shelter in the rocks and bushes. They watched as a swarm of black crows scattered around their camp. In the next moment, the crows were gone, but the Fellowship knew they were spotted.

"Spies of Saruman!" cried Gandalf. "The passage South is being watched. We must take the pass of Caradhras."

The company gathered their possessions and made way to the snowy pass of Caradhras. No one knew where the white mountain pass would take them, but they knew that the secrecy of their quest was now gone.

**A/N: Oh, dear! Things are turning ugly. Sorry for the long wait. I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I hope I did well on the names for Pharazphel's baby. I did ****my best research and spent hours looking and trying out name combinations. I hope I did not disappoint. Thank you for your reviews, favorites, etc. They mean so much to me. Thank you and enjoy! **


	18. The Pass of Caradhras

Chapter 18: The Pass of Caradhras

After being spotted on the Misty Mountains by the Crebain, the Fellowship was forced to move to the pass of Caradhras. The journey up the mountain was an arduous one. Boromir knew that he did not have such a hard journey. He thought about the trouble Pharazphel and Faramir were going through. He knew that his father would not be kind to them. Thinking of his wife and child brought Boromir comfort as he trudged on with the rest of the Fellowship. Another issue that troubled Boromir was the Ring. His father had sent him to retrieve it and bring it to Gondor. He thought of how his father would thank him for bringing it. He never wanted this task, but he knew he could not disappoint his father. Boromir thought of how close the Ring was to him, but yet it was so far. One day, while traveling up the pass of Caradhras, Frodo tripped as he trudged through the snow. The Ring fell from his neck and into the snow. Boromir picked it up and gazed at it. He thought of how this Ring could help his people.

"It is a strange fate that we should suffer so much fear and doubt over so small a thing," he said. "such a little thing."

"Boromir!" Aragorn cried. "Give the Ring to Frodo."

Boromir hesitated, but gave the Ring back to Frodo. "As you wish. I care not."

Boromir playfully tousled Frodo's hair before turning back up the mountain. As the companions journeyed further up the mountain, the snow began to blow around them. They were caught in a blizzard. Boromir and Aragorn heaved their way up the mountain, each of them carrying a Hobbit. Aragorn carried Frodo and Sam, while Boromir carried Merry and Pippin. Legolas, stepping atop the snow, crept to the edge of the mountain.

"There is a fell voice on the air," Legolas said.

"It's Saruman!" Gandalf shouted.

Suddenly, lightning struck the mountain peak and sent a barrage of snow down below.

"He's trying to bring down the mountain! Gandalf, we must turn back!" Aragorn shouted.

"No!" Gandalf said.

Gandalf spread his arms and shouted in a language that amazed the Fellowship. Gandalf was attempting to ward off Saruman's hold over the mountain. Alas, his efforts were for not. Saruman's voice was like thunder, and lightning struck the peak again. The company found themselves buried in snow. When they emerged from the snow, the Company knew that the mountain had defeated them.

"We cannot stay on the mountain!" Boromir cried. "Make for the Gap of Rohan, or take the West Road to my city!"

"The Gap of Rohan takes us too close to Isengard," Aragorn said.

"If we cannot pass over the mountain, let us go under it," Gimli suggested. "Let us go through the Mines of Moria."

Gandalf was silent for a long moment.

"We cannot stay here!" Boromir cried. "This will be the death of the Hobbits."

"Let the Ring-bearer decide," Gandalf said. "Frodo?"

Frodo thought a long moment before he spoke. "We will go through the Mines."

"So be it," Gandalf said.

And so the Company climbed down from Caradhras. Although the mountain had defeated them, they were hoping to have better luck with the Mines of Moria. Boromir wondered at Gandalf's hesitation at going through the Mines.

"What danger awaits us at Moria?" Boromir asked. "I saw how troubled you were at suggesting we go through those mines. What awaits us there?"

"I cannot say," Gandalf said. "I was afraid to enter Moria, but it seems we are left with no choice. Just be on your guard."

Boromir did not know what he would encounter in Moria, but he was prepared to endure it. What no one could know is the danger that awaited them.

It had been six months since Boromir departed Minas Tirith. Pharazphel was now seven months into her pregnancy. Although she longed for her husband to be by her side, Pharazphel carried her child with as much strength as she could muster. Faramir was amazed by Pharazphel's endurance as she carried Boromir's child. One night, Faramir went down to Pharazphel's chamber. Although the journey from the Houses of Healing to the hall was not easy, Pharazphel managed it. Faramir heard Pharazphel crying out. Fearful that she might be in danger, Faramir hurried inside and found Pharazphel tossing in her sleep.

Faramir knelt down by Pharazphel's bed and roused her. "Wake up, my sister. Escape from this nightmare."

Pharazphel awoke slowly and gasped. "Faramir!"

Pharazphel was shaking from head to foot and her eyes were large. Faramir did his best to comfort his sister.

"You need not worry, sister," Faramir said. "Your terror is gone."

"My dream was dark," Pharazphel said. "I dreamed that Orcs were swarming all around, and Boromir was caught in their web. I saw them overtake him like a shadow."

"It was a dream and nothing more," Faramir said.

"How long has it been since Boromir departed?" Pharazphel asked.

"Six months," Faramir said.

"Has it been so long?" Pharazphel gasped. "Why has he not returned? Surely, he would have returned by now."

"I do not know why Boromir has not returned," Faramir said. "I cannot say what keeps him. I do know that he will return to you."

"I fear for him, and I do not know why," Pharazphel said.

"You do not have anything to fear," Faramir said. "Although Boromir is late, he shall return. He is a valiant man and he will survive the journey back to Minas Tirith. He will be with you when your child arrives."

"Thank you, Faramir," Pharazphel said. "Your words do comfort me as well as the child."

"It is my duty to my brother and to you," Faramir said humbly.

**A/N: What will happen next as Pharazphel approaches her due date? Keep reading to find out! I appreciate the reviews, favorites, etc. They mean a lot to me. Thank you. **


	19. The Mines of Moria

Chapter 19: The Mines of Moria

And so, the Company had left the treacherous path of Caradhras to go under the mountain. They were about to pass through the Mines of Moria. Boromir had a great wariness wash over him as they neared Moria. It was not the danger that made Boromir uneasy; it was that Gandalf seemed fearful of going into the Mines. Boromir knew if he was going to survive the mines, he would have to be on his guard. The only one who took comfort in the journey to the Mines was Gimli, as he was akin to Balin, the Lord of Moria.

Gimli was in awe as they approached the mines. "The walls of Moria."

Gimli then proceeded to bang his ax against the walls, as if he was in search of something. Before Boromir could ask why, Gimli spoke up.

"Dwarf doors are invisible when closed," he said.

"Yes, Gimli, their own masters cannot find them if their secrets are forgotten," Gandalf said.

"Why doesn't that surprise me?" Legolas said.

Gimli gave a growl low in his throat.

_Oh, brilliant. Invisible doors,_ Boromir thought.

At last they stopped when Gandalf gazed at what seemed to be a door.

"Ithildin," he said. "It mirrors only starlight and moonlight."

The moon revealed itself, and the runes shone on the door like stars. Everyone gaped at the sight of the beautifully lit runes.

_It seems the dwarves are full of surprises, _Boromir thought. _I lament that Faramir and Pharazphel are not here to witness this. _

"It reads, 'The doors of Durin, Lord of Moria. Speak friend and enter,'" Gandalf explained.

"What do you suppose that means?" Merry asked.

"It's quite simple. If you are a friend you speak the password and the doors will open," Gandalf said. "Annon edhellen, edro hi ammen!"

Much to everyone's dismay, the door did not open. Gandalf tried to push it open, but with no success.

"Do not you know the word, Gandalf?" Boromir asked.

"No," Gandalf said.

"Then what is the use in bringing us to this accursed spot?" Boromir wanted to know. "You told us that you once passed through the Mines. How could that be if you do not know how to enter?"

"To answer your first question, Boromir, is that I do not know the word – yet," Gandalf said. "As for your other question, do you doubt my tale? Have you no wits about you? I did not enter from the door. I entered from the East."

"What are you going to do, then?" Pippin asked.

"Knock your head against these doors, Peregrine Took! And if that does not settle them, then I'm allowed a little peace from foolish questions. I am trying to find the right words."

For a long moment, the Company was silent as Gandalf tried to solve the riddle of the door. As they waited, Boromir and Aragorn noticed a ripple moving fast in the water. Merry and Pippin were foolishly throwing stones into the water. Before Pippin could throw another, Aragorn grabbed his arm.

"Do not disturb the water," he said.

Suddenly, Frodo jumped up. "It's a riddle," he said. "'Speak friend, and enter.' What's the Elvish word for 'friend?'"

"Mellon," Gandalf replied.

Suddenly, the great bright doors pulled open.

_Hobbits certainly are a clever folk,_ Boromir thought.

The Fellowship entered the Mines. Gimli was overjoyed as they entered.

"Soon, Master Elf, you will enjoy the fabled hospitality of the Dwarves," he said. "Roaring fires, malt beer, red meat off the bone! This is the home of my cousin, Balin, and they call it a mine. A mine!"

Gandalf lit up his staff. Boromir did not see roaring fires, or dwarves for that matter. All he saw were numerous skeletons about them. Each skeleton was pierced with arrows.

"This is no mine. It's a tomb," he said.

Gimli looked in horror at the skeletons around the Mine. "No. No! NO!"

Legolas glanced at one of the arrows. "Goblins!"

Everyone drew their weapons.

"We make for the Gap of Rohan," Boromir said. "We should never have come here. Now get out of here, get out!"

Suddenly, they heard Frodo cry out. The Fellowship raced out to find Frodo dragged high into the air by a monstrous creature with tentacles. Legolas fired arrows at the beast while Aragorn and Boromir furiously cut off it's tentacles. The creature swung its tentacles at all who approached. Boromir slashed swiftly at a tentacle, and Frodo fell into Boromir's waiting arms.

"Into the Mines!" Gandalf cried.

"Legolas! Into the caves!" Boromir cried. "Run!"

The creature pulled itself onto the land, pursuing its foes. The Fellowship had barely made it into the caves as the creature snatched at the stone, causing a cave in. They were trapped in the Mines. Gandalf lit up his staff in the darkness.

"We now have but one choice: we must face the long dark of Moria," he said. "Be on your guard. There are older and fouler things in the deep places of the world. Quietly, now. It's a four day journey to the other side. Let us hope that our presence may go unnoticed."

And so, the group journeyed to the other side of Moria. As they crept through the darkness, Boromir easily lost track of the time. He did not know how long they had been in the darkness. There was no way of knowing if it was night or day. As they journeyed deeper and deeper into the Mines, Gandalf noticed what seemed to be a gleaming light in the dark.

"The wealth of Moria was not in gold, or jewels, but in _mithril_," Gandalf said.

He raised his staff, and the Company could see the sparkling brightness of the _mithril. _Everyone was taken aback by the beauty of the gems.

"Bilbo had a shirt of _mithril _rings that Thorin gave to him," Gandalf said.

"That was a kingly gift!" Gimli said.

"Yes," Gandalf agreed. "I never told him, but it's worth was greater than the land of The Shire."

The Company left the sight of the brilliant _mithril_ and climbed the stairs. As they reached the top, Gandalf looked bewildered.

"I have no memory of this place," he said.

Once again, their journey was stalled. As they could do nothing until Gandalf remembered the way, the Company made a fire. Boromir was fearful as they waited in the dark.

"Something troubles you, Boromir?" Aragorn asked.

"Shall we be doomed to be trapped in this darkness forever?" Boromir asked.

"Do not lose hope, Boromir," Aragorn said. "Gandalf will find us a way."

"But when will that be?" Boromir asked.

"Do you lack faith in Gandalf?" Aragorn asked.

"No, forgive me," Boromir said. "I am only thinking of returning to my wife. She is greatly with child now. I have thought of her and our child since I left Gondor."

"Do not fear. We shall escape this darkness, and you will return to your wife and child," Aragorn said.

"It is that thought alone that has kept my hopes high on this journey," Boromir said.

Boromir was interrupted when Gandalf cried out, "Oh, it's that way!"

"He's remembered!" Merry said excitedly.

"No, but the air doesn't smell so foul down here," Gandalf said. "If in doubt, young Meriadoc, always follow your nose."

Gandalf led them down a stairway. As Gandalf lit the way, they beheld a great city with tall pillars and great high ceilings.

"Behold, the great realm of the dwarf city of Dwarrowdelf," Gandalf said.

"Well, there's an eye-opener. Ain't no mistake," Sam said.

The Fellowship marveled at the spectacular city. Their amazement was halted when Gimli gave a cry and rushed forward to a room with a grave. The group followed him to the grave as Gimli sank to his knees.

"No! No!" Gimli cried.

Gandalf approached the grave with Dwarf runes and read it aloud. "'Here lies Balin son of Fundin, Lord of Moria.' He is dead then. It is as I feared."

Gimli cried out in pain and recited a Dwarvish prayer. Boromir placed a consoling hand on Gimli's shoulder. Gandalf picked up a book that was lying nearby. He blew the dust off of it and opened it.

"'They have taken the bridge, and the second hall,'" he read. "'We have barred the gates, but cannot hold them for long. We cannot get out. The ground shakes, drums, drums in the deep. We cannot get out. The shadow moves in the deep. Cannot get out. They are coming."

Suddenly, BOOM! The Company was startled as Pippin foolishly tugged on a skeleton and sent it crashing and clanging into the well and deep into the Mines. Pippin looked shameful as everyone stared. Boromir breathed a sigh as no danger came after the racket.

"Fool of a Took!" Gandalf cried. "Throw yourself in next time and rid us of your stupidity!"

Then, there was a different sound. It was the sound of drums. The drumming grew louder and was accompanied by shrieks.

"Orcs!" Legolas said.

Boromir rushed to close the door. Two arrows zipped through the air, narrowly missing Boromir as they were caught in the door.

"Get back! Stay close to Gandalf!" Aragorn cried to the Hobbits.

Boromir and Aragorn closed the doors as they heard a roar.

"They have a cave troll," Boromir said.

Legolas, Aragorn, and Boromir barred the doors with wood and axes. They stood back, and waited for what was to come through the doors. Aragorn and Legolas drew their bows. Boromir, Gandalf, and the Hobbits readied their swords. Gimli growled as he held his ax high and jumped atop Balin's grave.

"Let them come! Here's one Dwarf yet in Moria who still draws breath!" Gimli said.

The company waited as the hordes tore through the door. Aragorn and Legolas loosed their arrows, as the creatures shrieked behind the doors. At last, the Orcs burst through the doors. Chaos engulfed the entire chamber as they battled the Orcs. Boromir slashed his way through the Orcs. The ring of metal was everywhere, like music. Legolas' bow sang and let loose arrows with great speed. Just as the Company thought the Orcs were enough, a humongous cave troll smashed through the chamber with a fierce roar. The powerful creature swung a great mallet at Sam and prepared to squash him. Aragorn and Boromir pulled on the chain that hung around the troll's neck, distracting him. Aragorn let go quickly, but the cave troll swung Boromir off the chain, smashing him into a wall and knocking him unconscious for a moment. When Boromir came to, he saw an Orc ready to strike. The Orc fell dead after a dagger pierced its neck. Boromir looked over and nodded at Aragorn. Boromir got to his feet and slashed at any Orc who approached him. The cave troll viciously attacked Legolas, swinging the chain at the elf. Legolas quickly trapped the cave troll's chain and climbed on top of the beast. Legolas fired an arrow directly into the brain of the creature. The cave troll roared furiously as it went after three of the Hobbits. It grabbed Frodo by his leg and dragged him. Frodo slashed the beast's hand to free himself. Amidst the chaos, Boromir saw Aragorn attack the cave troll, piercing the creature with a long spear. The Hobbits through rocks at the beast, causing it to swing its arms madly, and toss Aragorn against the wall. Boromir raced to Aragorn's side and slashed at any Orcs who approached. Boromir was distracted by a cry of pain. The cave troll had used the spear to stab Frodo. Frodo cried out and fell forward.

_No! _Boromir thought. _It cannot end here! _

With more fury than ever, Boromir hacked his way through the Orcs. Before long, only the cave troll remained. Legolas fired two arrows into the cave troll's throat. At last, the cave troll gave one last cry as it fell dead with a crash. Everyone rushed to Frodo's side. Frodo was not moving.

"Oh no," Aragorn said sorrowfully.

Aragorn turned Frodo over. Much to everyone's surprise, Frodo coughed and sighed as he awoke.

"He's alive," Sam said.

"I'm alright," Frodo said.

"You're not hurt?" Aragorn said. "That spear would've skewered a wild boar."

"I think there's more to this omen that meets the eye," Gandalf said.

Frodo opened his shirt, revealing white and gold _mithril _rings.

"_Mithril_!" Gimli cried. "You are full of surprises, Master Baggins."

_Halflings are truly an amazing people,_Boromir thought.

Outside the chamber, there was the shrieking of more Orcs approaching.

"To the Bridge of Khazad-dum!" Gandalf said.

Without a second thought, the Company raced out of the chamber and to the bridge. As they neared the bridge, no one could have anticipated the evil that would await them.

**A/N: I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter. I will be getting back to Pharazphel soon. Thank you for all of the favorites and reviews. It means so much. Thank you, and enjoy! **


	20. From Khazhad Dum to Lothlorien

Chapter 20: From Khazad-dum to Lothlorien

With all the speed, The Fellowship ran from the Hall to the bridge of Khazad-dum. As the Company raced to the bridge, their way was growing dark. The only light to guide them came from Gandalf's staff. They could hear the shrieking of the goblins and the Orcs all around them. The horrid creatures were climbing from the pillars like spiders to surround their prey. Although the Fellowship ran with all their might, their speed was no match for the great number of the foul creatures. Within moments they were surrounded by thousands of Orcs and goblins. The Fellowship raised their weapons to the horrible creatures, preparing to fight their way to the bridge.

Just as the Company was swarmed by the creatures, their came a noise like a dull rumble of thunder. There was a yellow glow in the distance. The great noise sent alll of the creatures scrambling, as they were taken by a sudden fear. The creatures crawled back into the darkness of the Hall. Gimli gave a triumphant shout, but the rest of the Fellowship remained warily silent.

"What is this new devilry?" Boromir asked.

The faint glow in the distance grew brighter and the noise grew louder.

"A Balrog," Gandalf said. "A demon of the ancient world. This foe is beyond any of you. Run!"

Without hesitation, the Company raced toward the bridge of Khazad-dum. Boromir raced on ahead, making his way down a set of stone steps. Suddenly, Boromir the steps ended. Boromir gave a cry as he tried to balance himself. Legolas was there in a flash and pulled Boromir back from the cliff. The Balrog's roar grew louder in the distance as the Fellowship raced down the stairs. They approached another set of stairs broken by the Balrog. Legolas swiftly jumped to the other side just as the walls began to crash as the Balrog drew near. Gandalf leaped to the other side when an arrow barely missed him. The Company looked up and saw Orc and Goblin arrows raining down on them. Aragorn and Legolas drew their bows to kill as many of the creatures as possible.

"Merry, Pippin!" Boromir cried.

Taking the Hobbits under each arm, Boromir made a mighty leap to the other side of the stairs. Boromir and Legolas took turns catching Sam and Gimli as they leapt across. The Balrog was drawing closer as Aragorn and Frodo prepared to jump. The Balrog's footsteps shook the earth, sending rocks to crash into the stairs. The stairs were tottering as their foundation was smashed. The Company watched as Aragorn and Frodo balanced themselves on the crumbling stairs. The stairs came crashing down, sending Aragorn and Frodo into the arms of Boromir and Legolas. The Company made their way to the Bridge of Khazad-dum with all haste.

"Over the bridge! Fly!" Gandalf shouted.

With great speed, the Fellowship made their way over the bridge as the Balrog followed behind them. Just as they were nearly free, the Company turned to witness the Balrog. It was a towering demon wreathed entirely in fire. Its roar and steps shook the very ground. In its claws it held a fiery whip and a great sword. In horror, the Fellowship watched as Gandalf stood between them and the demon.

"You cannot pass!" Gandalf shouted.

"Gandalf!" Frodo shrieked.

They watched as Gandalf's staff began to glow and surround him.

"I am the servant of the sacred fire, wielder of the flame of Arnor. Dark fire will not avail you, flame of Udun!" Gandalf said.

The Balrog roared at Gandalf and brought his sword down on the wizard. Gandalf gave a cry, but he stood firm as the creature screamed at him.

"Go back to the Shadow," Gandalf said.

The Balrog did not obey Gandalf's warning. It snapped its whip and set its blazing claws down on the bridge. Gandalf raised his sword and staff to the demon.

"You shall not pass!" he cried.

In a flash of light, Gandalf brought his staff to the ground. The bridge began to collapse, taking the shreiking Balrog down with it. Gandalf turned to join the Fellowship. Suddenly, the long whip from the Balrog caught him and dragged him down. Aragorn leapt forward but was cut off by the arrows of the Orcs and Goblins. Frodo jumped forward, but Boromir held him back.

"No, no!" Boromir cried.

"Gandalf!" Frodo screamed.

As Gandalf clung to the bridge, he shouted to them, "Fly, you fools!"

In that instant, Gandalf vanished into the abyss.

"No!" Frodo screamed.

Boromir carried the screaming Hobbit out of the cavern and called to Aragorn. With great haste, the Company came to the other side of Moria. A great melancholy overtook the Company. The Hobbits were shrieking and calling out for Gandalf. Sam buried his head. Merry and Pippin tearfully embraced each other. Legolas stared at his comrades, bewildered and sorrowful, as he did not fully understand death. Boromir held a struggling Gimli back, as he wished to defend Moria once more.

"Legolas, get them up," Aragorn said.

Boromir, like the rest of his comrades, was weary and overcome with grief at the loss of Gandalf. He could not bear the thought of moving on so quickly.

"Give them a moment, for pity's sake!" he cried.

"By nightfall, these hills will be swarming with Orcs," Aragorn said. "We must reach the woods of Lothlorien. Come, Boromir, Legolas. Gimli, get them up."

Reluctantly, the Company got to their feet and climbed down from the hills of Moria and into the great forest of Lothlorien.

Boromir was strangely fearful as they entered Lothlorien. He had heard stories of the magic of the Elves. He had heard stories of the great power in the woods and of the Lady Galadriel.

"They say a dark power grows in these woods," Boromir said to Aragorn.

"There is only the power of the Lady Galadriel," Aragorn said.

"Is she a friend or foe to us?" Boromir asked.

"She need only be a friend if we are careful. It is not wise to speak ill of Lady Galadriel."

Suddenly, the Company found themselves surrounded by Elves with their bows drawn.

"The dwarf breathes so loud we could've shot him in the dark," said a tall, blond Elf.

The Company were taken by the Elves into the kingdom of Lorien. The elf, who was known as Haldir, greeted Legolas and Aragorn in his own tongue. Gimli grew impatient as Haldir spoke.

"So much for the legendary courtesy of the Elves. Speak words we can all understand!" he said angrily.

"We have not had dealings with the Dwarves since the Dark Days," Haldir said.

"And do you know what this dwarf says to that?" Gimli asked.

Gimli then began to speak in his own tongue. Boromir did not know what he said, but he knew they were not friendly words.

"That was not so courteous," Aragorn said.

Haldir then gazed upon Frodo. "You bring great evil here. You may go no further!"

The Company was forced to wait as Aragorn argued with Haldir in Elvish. Boromir watched Frodo as the Hobbit sat alone. He knew that Frodo already carried a great burden with the Ring. He could not bear to see the Hobbit bear another.

"Gandalf's death was not in vain," Boromir whispered. "He would not have you give up hope. You carry a heavy burden, Frodo. Don't carry the weight of the dead."

Frodo silently nodded to Boromir. Just then, Haldir beckoned them.

"You will follow me," he said.

By morning, the Company followed Haldir and his band of Elves through the forest. The leaves began to grow brighter as they approached the Elven sanctuary of Caras Galadhon. The city was protected by the giant mallorn trees. The mallorn trees lined the gateway into the kingdom. Their leaves were bright as the sun shone on them.

"Caras Galadhon," Haldir said. "the heart of Elvendom on earth. Realm of the Lord Celeborn and of Galadriel, Lady of Light!"


	21. Lady Galadriel and Denethor's Command

Chapter 21: Lady Galadriel and Denethor's Command

Boromir could not believe his eyes as he and the Fellowship were led into the Elven haven of Caras Caladhon. He had never seen trees like the great mallorn trees where the Elves made their homes. The trees reached high up into the sky, and their roots were long. Haldir led the Fellowship up a great set of stairs on the mallorn tree. They crossed a short bridge before they came upon the house of Celeborn and Galadriel. The house was shining, as if it were made of stars. Descending from the stairs came Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel, hand in hand. Boromir and his companions looked on at the Lord and Lady of Rivendell in utter awe. Both Celeborn and Galadriel were tall and beautiful. Their skin was as white as the lights that shone about their city. Both had a river of golden hair. The face of Celeborn was troubled.

"The Enemy knows you have entered here," he said. "What hope you had in secrecy is now gone. Eight that are here yet nine there were sent out from Rivendell. Tell me, where is Gandalf? For I much desire to speak with him, and I can no longer see him from afar."

"He has fallen into Shadow," said Lady Galadriel.

"He was taken by both Shadow and flame," Legolas said sadly. "A Balrog of Morgoth. For we went needlessly into the net of Moria."

"Needless were none of the deeds of Gandalf in life," Galadriel said. "we do not yet know his full purpose."

Galadriel turned to Gimli, who hung his head in grief. "Do not let the great emptiness of Khazad-Dum fill your heart, Gimli, son of Gloin. For the world has grown full of peril. And in all lands love is now mingled with grief."

Galadriel turned to Boromir. As Galadriel held Boromir in her gaze, Boromir could hear the voice of Galadriel in his mind.

"Do not let your heart be troubled by the peril of Gondor, son of Denethor," she said. "Your father is a noble man. In all lands, even the noblest lose heart. You need not despair. For even in the most perilous of places, there is still hope."

Boromir looked wide-eyed at Galadriel, who still gazed at him. He could not bear to look upon her anymore and bowed his head. Galadriel then released him from her eyes.

"What hope could she speak of?" Boromir asked himself. "Every day my people lose heart. How can we have any hope when it abandoned us long ago?"

"What now becomes of this Fellowship?" Celeborn asked. "Without Gandalf, hope is lost."

"The quest stands upon the edge of a knife," Galadriel said. "Stray but a little, and it will fail to the ruin of all. Yet hope remains while the Company is true. Go now and rest, for you are weary with sorrow and much toil. Tonight, you will sleep in peace."

Boromir turned to Frodo, who was now held in the gaze of Lady Galadriel. He noticed that Frodo could not bear to look upon Galadriel any longer, and she turned her gaze away.

The Company were then led outside where they were given food, drink, and rest. Boromir was curious about what Galadriel had said to Frodo. He could not help but press Frodo about what he heard.

"She held you long in her gaze, Ring-bearer," Boromir said.

"Yes," Frodo said. "but whatever came into my mind then I will keep there."

"Well, have a care!" Boromir said. "I do not feel too sure of this Elvish Lady and her purposes.

"Speak no evil of the Lady Galadriel!" Aragorn said. "You know not what you say. There is in her and in this land no evil, unless a man bring it hither himself. Then let him beware! But tonight I shall sleep without fear for the first time since I left Rivendell."

The Company could hear the song of Elves ringing in the night sky. They sang a lament for the fallen Gandalf, who was dear to them. They called him Mithrandir, just as Faramir did. Hearing the song of the Elves only brought more discomfort to Boromir, as he thought of his family in Minas Tirith. Although he knew Faramir and Pharazphel were strong, he feared for them in his city. Aragorn saw his comrade was troubled and he sought to bring him comfort.

"Take some rest," he said. "These borders are well protected."

"I will find no rest here," Boromir said. "I heard her voice inside my head. She spoke of my father and the fall of Gondor. And she said to me, even now there is still hope left, but I cannot see it. It is long since we had any hope."

"Your thoughts dwell on your wife and unborn child, do they not?" Aragorn asked.

"I think of them on every step of this journey," Boromir said. "My wife is a strong and able woman, but I fear for the peril that awaits her and my child. I cannot bear to see them taken by darkness."

Aragorn sat next to Boromir as he spoke once more.

"My father is a noble man," Boromir said. "but his rule is failing and our people lose faith. He looks to me to make things right, and I would do it. I would see the glory of Gondor restored. Have you ever seen it, Aragorn? The White Tower of Ecthelion, glimmering like a spike of pearl and silver. Its banners caught high in the morning breeze. Have you ever been called home by the clear ringing of silver trumpets?"

Aragorn nodded. "I have seen the White City, long ago."

"In time, our paths will lead us there," Boromir said. "And the tower guard shall take up the call: 'The Lords of Gondor have returned!'"

"We will see the White City again," Aragorn said. "For now, take some rest, for we need not fear any danger here."

Darkness had again begun to take over the land of Gondor. Osgiliath, the city that Boromir and Faramir fought so hard to hold, was now being taken by the enemy. Orcs had begun to cross into the city. Faramir was often sent to Osgiliath in order to drive back the Orcs. Faramir and his men managed only temporary victories. Sauron had begun to poison the mind of Denethor through the Palantir. Through the Palantir, Sauron showed Denethor the defeat of Gondor and Sauron rising to power. Sauron's poison slowly started to twist Denethor's mind. He was often shut up in his halls, gazing into the Lost Seeing-Stone. Denethor would not let the Enemy defeat him, no matter how great his forces were. Many times Faramir tried to reason with his father, but Denethor would not hear his counsel.

"My lord, Sauron's forces are growing stronger every day," Faramir said. "Orcs continue to cross into Osgiliath. We do not have the strength to repel them."

"I will not yield the city that your brother fought hard to defend," Denethor said. "We must continue to defend Osgiliath at all costs."

"My lord, we cannot continue to hold back Sauron's hordes," Faramir said. "His forces are growing greater, and our men are growing to few."

"Too few? Are you certain that you do not speak of your usefulness?" Denethor said angrily. "Before he departed, your brother held Osgiliath's defenses valiantly. Now that he has departed, Osgiliath falls into ruin. I believe the city's destruction is a mark on yourself and not our lack of men."

Faramir felt the sting of his father's words. They bit into him as a sword bites into flesh.

"Since you are still robbed of Boromir, I shall continue to hold up his defenses," Faramir said.

"You may try," Denethor said coldly. "Have you heard no news of Boromir? Whither does he go? Why has he not returned?"

"I cannot say, my lord," Faramir said. "I do not know where Boromir goes or what keeps him. Until his return, I shall continue to serve you as he did."

"You can never serve me as he did, even if you desire to," Denethor said.

Still wounded by Denethor's words, Faramir bowed and left the Steward's halls, bound for Osgiliath.

As Faramir was bravely defending the city of Osgiliath, Pharazphel languished in the Houses of Healing once more. Her child's arrival drew nearer every day. Although she was a strong woman, carrying Boromir's child was a difficult task. She remained in the Houses of Healing to await the approaching birth of her child.

Pharazphel yearned for company in the Houses of Healing. Boromir had been kept from Gondor for many months. The approaching danger of Sauron often kept Faramir away at Osgiliath. The only company Pharazphel had was Ioreth and her unborn child. Pharazphel also wished to be with Boromir during these perilous times. Pharazphel did not know what kept Boromir from Minas Tirith, but she wished she could be by his side. The child that kicked in her belly gave Pharazphel hope that Boromir would return. As she awaited her child's arrival, she thought of Boromir's return and the defeat of Sauron. These thoughts lightened Pharazphel's heart.

Just as Pharazphel yearned for company, she received it from the most unlikely person. Denethor had come down from his halls to the House of Healing.

"My lord Denethor," Pharazphel said, surprised.

"I received word that you were being tended here," Denethor said.

"I am being tended here until my child arrives, my lord," Pharazphel said. "Have you heard any news of Boromir?"

Denethor shook his head. "We have received no word at all. I do not know what keeps him."

"I understand how you yearn for your son," Pharazphel said.

"You know nothing of what I speak," Denethor said angrily.

"I believe that I do, my lord," Pharazphel said. "I am Boromir's wife, and it is his child I carry. I do not think I am mistaken how much we both yearn for his company."

"You are not worthy to be a wife to my son, daughter of Rohan," Denethor said.

"Why have you sought my company, my lord, if all you desire is to try and wound me with your words?" Pharazphel asked.

"I have come to speak of your child," Denethor said.

"I thought you took no joy in my child's arrival, my lord. You couldn't have spoken much plainer," Pharazphel said.

"Silence!" Denethor said. "I do not love your child, but I do recognize that he is the child of Boromir. Any child of Boromir should have his valiance."

"My lord, you are too hasty," Pharazphel said. "I will not know if I bear Boromir a son or a daughter."

"You will bear him a son," Denethor said. "I have seen the impending doom that awaits us. Gondor will need sons if we are to defeat the armies of Mordor. If you bear Boromir a son, he will one day defeat Sauron's forces. When you give me a grandson, I may think more highly of you as my daughter."

"Am I not a daughter to you, my lord?" Pharazphel asked.

"Give me a grandson, and then I may think of you as my daughter," Denethor said coldly.

Denethor left the House of Healing, leaving Pharazphel in solitude, save for the child in her belly. Once Denethor had left, Pharazphel felt a great pain as the child moved inside her.

**A/N: Uh-oh! Things are starting to get tense. Once again, I thank you for all of the reviews, favorites, etc. It means so much to me. Thank you! **


	22. A Farewell to Lorien

Chapter 22: A Farewell to Lorien

After what seemed like an age in Lorien, the Company had to decide where their journey would continue from the Elven haven. Boromir yearned to move on with their journey. He thought about returning to Pharazphel. Their child would be arriving soon, and Boromir wished to be by Pharazphel's side as she gave birth. Alas, that could not be until the Company decided what road they would take. Boromir's mind was on the Ring. His father commanded him to bring back the Ring to use it against the Enemy. Boromir desired to please his father, but his greatest desire was to see Gondor restored to its former glory. He wished to see the White Tower again, and Osgiliath restored. He knew it would be some time before that was to happen.

As the Fellowship prepared to set out, Celeborn and Galadriel questioned the Fellowship about where there journey would go from Lothlorien.

"As for me, my home lies onward and not back," Boromir said.

"That is true," said Celeborn. "but is all this Company going with you to Minas Tirith?"

Aragorn shook his head. "We have not decided our course. Beyond Lothlorien, I do not know what Gandalf intended to do."

"When you leave this land, you cannot forget the Great River," Celeborn said. "It cannot be crossed by travelers with baggage between Lorien and Gondor, save by boat. And are not the bridges of Osgiliath broken down and all the landings held now by the Enemy? The way to Minas Tirith lies upon the west, but the straight road to your quest lies east of the River, upon a darker shore. Which shore will you take?"

"If my advice is heeded, it will be the western shore, and the way to Minas Tirith," Boromir said. "but I am not the leader of the Company."

Celeborn nodded. "I see you do not yet know what to do. I will furnish your Company with boats. Boats will make your journey less toilsome for a while, but they will not give you counsel. You will have to abandon your boats when you decided to turn west or east."

Aragorn thanked Celeborn several times for his generosity, but Boromir did not hear him. His heart was fixed on getting back to Gondor and returning to Pharazphel and his child. He knew that he had to bring the Ring to Gondor. He had to obey his father. He was sent to bring the Ring to Gondor, and he knew he must accomplish this task if he was to save Gondor.

The next morning, the Company departed from Lorien. Celeborn and Lady Galadriel had furnished them with small boats that were easy to navigate. They had also given them lembas, an Elvish way-bread kept in leaf wrappings. It would sustain them for days with even the smallest bite. The Company were then given grey Elvish cloaks with a leaf broach.

"Never before have we clad strangers in the garb of our own kin," Celeborn said. "May these cloaks help shield you from unfriendly eyes."

Galadriel stepped forward and presented the Company with gifts. To Legolas, she gave a bow of the Galadrim. For Merry and Pippin, she gave daggers of the Noldorim that had already seen service in war. Sam was given elven rope made of hithlain and Frodo was given the Light of Earendil, the most beloved star of the Wood Elves. Gimli only asked for one hair from Galadriel's golden head, but she gave him three. For the rest of the Fellowship, they were given golden belts adorned with the leaves of Lorien.

The Fellowship then took counsel in order to decide where they should continue their journey. Boromir once again voiced his desire to return to Gondor.

"I shall go to Minas Tirith, alone if need be, for it is my duty," he said.

Boromir gazed at Frodo then spoke again. "If you wish only to destroy the Ring, then there is little use in war and weapons; and the Men of Minas Tirith cannot help. But if you wish to destroy the armed might of the Dark Lord, then it is folly to go without force into his domain; and folly to throw away."

Boromir suddenly became aware of what he was saying as the Fellowship gazed at him.

"It would be folly to throw lives away, I mean," he said. "It is a choice between defending a strong place and walking openly into the arms of death. At least, that is how I see it."

At last Aragorn spoke. "Celeborn has spoken of a new enemy. A breed of Orcs that travel in sunlight. We are being followed. We can only hope to escape our enemy by reaching the Falls of Rauros. From there, we will decide where our journey will continue."

With that, the Company gathered into the boats. Boromir took Merry and Pippin in his boat. Aragorn was with Frodo and Sam, while Legolas and Gimli took a boat. As the Company paddled out, they saw Lady Galadriel raise her arm in farewell.

By nightfall, the Company had stopped to rest in Sarn Gebir before continuing their journey down the Great River. Every day, Boromir grew more anxious to return to Gondor. He could not fail his father. He had to bring the Ring to Gondor and save his city. He had to return to Pharazphel and his child. He could not fail in his quest. Every hour Aragorn tarried made Boromir all the more eager to return to Minas Tirith. As they stopped to rest, Boromir saw something strange moving in the water. A shriveled creature that looked more like an animal than a man or Hobbit.

"Gollum," Aragorn said. "He has tracked us since Moria. I had hoped we would lose him on the river, but he's too clever a waterman."

"And if he alerts the Enemy of our whereabouts, it will make the crossing even more dangerous," Boromir said.

"I do not know Gollum's full purpose, but we need not worry about him now," Aragorn said. "We must decide where our Company shall go from Parth Galen."

"Minas Tirith is the safer road. You know that," Boromir said. "from there we can regroup, strike out for Mordor from a place of strength."

"There is no strength left in Gondor that can avail us," Aragorn said.

"You were quick enough to trust the Elves," Boromir argued. "Have you so little faith in your own people? Yes, there is weakness, there is frailty, but there is courage also, and honor to be found in Men. But you will not see that."

Aragorn turned away, but Boromir would not let him. "You are afraid! All your life, you have hidden in the Shadows, scared of who you are, of what you are."

Boromir let go of Aragorn, ashamed of what he had said.

"I will not lead the Ring within a hundred leagues of your city," Aragorn said.

Boromir bowed his head in remorse. "Forgive me. You have not led us astray. I only know that it is my duty to return to Minas Tirith."

"I would follow you and defend the White City," Aragorn said. "but if the Ring-bearer goes to Mordor, then I must follow. If you must go to Minas Tirith, that is where you must go. I will say no more."

By the second morning, The Company had reached Parth Galen. The Fellowship looked up in awe at the towering Argonath, two statues of old kings of Men, Anarion and his son, Isildur. The statues had aged but still retained their majesty and captured the Company. Boromir felt his heart lift as he looked upon the kings of old. He had long desired to look upon this great sight.

As the Company paddled to shore, Boromir felt an uncertainty come over him. He did not know where the Company would decide to go. He did not know where the Ring-bearer would go. He wanted to follow the Fellowship, but he could not disobey his father. While he was on this journey, Gondor was falling into ruin. Boromir knew that the Ring could change that. With the Ring, Boromir could save Minas Tirith and reunite with Pharazphel. If Frodo would not go to Minas Tirith, Boromir was not certain what would become of his people. All he knew was that the Ring must go to Gondor, whatever the cost.

As the Boromir continued his journey, Pharazphel was deeply troubled by Denethor's command. She would not know the gender of her child until it was born. Denethor was nearly certain that Pharazphel would bear a son. He had commanded that Pharazphel would bear a son, or her life would be forfeit. The child never let her forget its presence as it restlessly kicked in her belly. As Pharazphel awoke one morning, she found Faramir at her side.

"Faramir, what brings you to my side?" Pharazphel asked.

"I am fulfilling my duty to my brother and sister-in-law," Faramir said. "I have come to see how my sister and her child fare."

"The child is as strong as ever, giving me no rest," Pharazphel said.

Pharazphel frowned and lowered her eyes.

"You are troubled, my sister," Faramir said. "Has Father been here?"

"You know your father well," Pharazphel said. "Yes, he was here. He gave me a command."

"What could he command of you now?" Faramir asked. "You are bearing a child."

"That is precisely the nature of your father's command," Pharazphel said. "Your father came to me a few days ago. He spoke of the need Gondor has for sons. He ordered me to bear him a grandson to fight for Gondor."

"But when he heard the news of your child, he made it clear that he had no love for the child," Faramir said, confused.

"He knows that this child is Boromir's," Pharazphel said. "He believes that any son of Boromir's will have his strength, and thus, I am ordered to bear a son."

"How can my father give such a command?" Faramir asked.

"You know your father better than I," Pharazphel said.

"I find myself asking if I truly know my father these days," Faramir said. "I am truly sorry for my father's lack of courtesy. I know that you may not desire his love –"

"You are mistaken, my brother," Pharazphel said. "I do desire the love of your father. It is all I have wanted since I loved Boromir. I have never known my father. He died when I was born. I want your father to accept me as his daughter."

"Then why have you not sought to win my father's love?" Faramir asked.

"I desire the pity of no man," Pharazphel said. "I want your father to accept me as a daughter, but I will not force him. I should not have to persuade him to love me, and neither should you."

Faramir was silent for a moment. He knew that Pharazphel's words had some truth in them. Faramir did not expect a strong woman of Rohan to fall to the commands of Lord Denethor.

"What will you do when the child is born?" Faramir asked.

"I will not pay heed to your father's words," Pharazphel said. "If my child is a girl or a boy, I shall love it with all my being. It is a part of Boromir, and thus must be cherished. One day, your father will see that."

"I believe you are right," Faramir said.

**A/N: Sorry for the delays. School has kept me quite busy. I hope you enjoyed this. Thank you for all the reviews, favorites, etc. I appreciate them greatly. **


	23. The Horn of Gondor

Chapter 23: The Horn of Gondor

It was now February and it had been seven months since Boromir's departure from Minas Tirith. Minas Tirith was now one of the only free kingdoms of Men. Osgiliath was regularly under siege by the Enemy. Faramir and his men managed to drive the Enemy back, but they were only temporary victories. Faramir began to worry for Gondor as his father, Lord Denethor did nothing to avail the people. He sat in the marble halls of the Citadel, his mind poisoned by the burning of Gondor he saw in the Palantir. Although Denethor knew of this impending doom, he would do nothing but scoff at Faramir's attempts to hold the kingdom. Faramir also worried for his brother. Boromir had not returned since the summer, and Faramir feared that he would never return.

He could not bear to burden Pharazphel with the news of her husband's fall, if that ever came to be. Pharazphel already was under strain as she was nearing the delivery of her child. Faramir's visits had become scarce and he was concerned for the welfare of his beloved sister-in-law and her child. On a cold winter afternoon, Faramir managed to visit the Houses of Healing. Pharazphel sat on a feather bed and there were multiple pillows around her. Her belly protruded from under her blankets. Faramir took notice that she had swelled in size since his last visit.

"Pharazphel, my sister," Faramir greeted.

"You are greatly missed, brother," Pharazphel said. "You look terrible."

Faramir laughed merrily. "I see you still have your senses. You look positively radiant."

"Oh, you are too kind, brother," Pharazphel said. "Let us not be dishonest."

"You look as if you have a watermelon in your belly," Faramir laughed.

Pharazphel chuckled. "I feel as if I am growing a watermelon in my belly. If only I had Boromir here, I would berate him for what he has done to me. I am a woman of Rohan, taught to ride and wield a blade, and here I sit growing fat."

"If ever there was a thing to be feared, it is the wrath of a woman of Rohan," Faramir said. "I would fear for my life if I were Boromir or Sauron's hordes."

Pharazphel laughed, but her smile faded quickly.

"What troubles you, sister?" Faramir asked.

"I do not deny it that I am grateful and blessed to be carrying Boromir's child, but I find myself weary of skulking in these halls," Pharazphel said. "I have been taught all my life to ride and wield blade. Now that my country is in peril as well as Boromir, I do not wish to sit here any longer."

Faramir took her hands. "I know your desire to ride into battle to defend your country and to stand at Boromir's side, but you must not think of that now. You must think of your duty to your child. Your child needs you until Boromir returns. That is your charge now."

"Will I never have the chance to ride to battle? I am ashamed to sit here whilst Boromir is in peril as well as my country," Pharazphel said.

"You need not feel any shame, my sister," Faramir said. "You are bearing a child, and you have nothing to be ashamed of. You are the most valiant woman I know. You proved your courage against Sauron's hordes before. I believe that you will have that chance again before the end."

"When the time comes, I will gladly stand by Boromir's side and yours in battle for Rohan and Gondor," Pharazphel said.

"We will gladly have you at that time," Faramir said. "I am certain that your child will learn courage from you as you did from your mother."

Faramir wanted to speak again, but he stopped. He could hear a familiar sound echoing through the city. It felt like it rang through the clouds and carried through the air. It was as if the winds had music in them. Despite this sweet sound, Faramir knew it meant something was amiss.

"What is it? Faramir?" Pharazphel said asked.

"It is the Horn of Gondor," Faramir said. "Boromir's horn."

The Company had stopped at Amon Hen where they made camp and debated the next step of their journey. Boromir had hoped that the Fellowship would accompany him to Minas Tirith. Alas, it seemed almost certain that the Fellowship was going to follow Frodo into Emyn Muil and on through the Dead Marshes into the Mountain of Fire. Boromir wanted to keep his pledge to protect the Ring-bearer, but he knew he could not disappoint his father. He also feared for Pharazphel, as he knew that by this time their child would arrive soon. Boromir was determined to take the Ring to Gondor and save his people any way he could. Boromir noticed that Frodo was wondering aimlessly through the woods. Boromir followed the Hobbit, hoping to coax him into lending him the Ring for the sake of his people.

Boromir gathered some sturdy branches for the fire as he approached the Hobbit.

"None of us should wander alone," he said. "You least of all. So much depends on you. Frodo?"

Frodo did not speak as he sat on a fallen stone statue.

"I know why you seek solitude. You suffer day by day. Are you sure you do not suffer needlessly? I wish to help you. You need counsel in your hard choice. Will you not take mine?"

"I know what you would say," Frodo said. "And it would seem like wisdom, but for the warning in my heart."

"Warning? Against what?" Boromir asked.

"Against delay. Against the way that seems easier. Against, if it must be said, against trust in the strength and truth of Men," Frodo replied.

"Yet that strength has protected you in your little country, though you knew it not," Boromir said.

"I do not doubt the valor of your people. But the world is changing. The walls of Minas Tirith are strong, but not strong enough. If they fail, what then?"

"We shall fall in battle valiantly. There is still hope that they will not fail."

"Not while the Ring lasts."

Boromir's eyes lit up as Frodo mentioned the Ring. "Ah! The Ring! Could I not have sight of it again?"

Frodo drew back, as if protecting the Ring. "It is best that it should lie hidden."

"As you wish, but can I not speak of it? For you seem ever to think only of its power in the hands of the Enemy. The world is changing, you say. Minas Tirith will fall, if the Ring lasts. But why? Certainly if the Ring were with the Enemy. But why, if were with us?"

"Were you not at the Council?" Frodo asked sharply. "Because we cannot use it, and what is done with it turns to evil."

"So you go on," Boromir said. "Gandalf, Elrond – all these folk have taught you to say so. Yet I often doubt if they are wise and not merely timid. But to each his own kind. We of Minas Tirith have been staunch through long years of trial. The Ring would give me power of Command. How I would drive the hosts of Mordor, and all men would flock to my banner!"

Boromir stopped gathering firewood and gazed at Frodo. "Surely you see it, my friend? That you are afraid. But it is really your good sense that revolts?"

"No, I am afraid," Frodo replied. "But I am glad to hear you speak so fully. My mind is clearer now."

"Then will you come to Gondor?" Boromir asked, his voice filled with hope. "My city is not far now. You need rest before your venture, if go you must."

"You misunderstand me," Frodo said as he pulled back. "The Ring must be destroyed. There is no other way."

Boromir tossed the firewood to the ground. "I ask only for the strength to defend my people!"

The Hobbit drew back in fear of the tall and strong man.

"If you would but lend me the Ring?" Boromir asked.

"No!" Frodo cried.

"Why do you recoil? I am no thief," Boromir said.

"You are not yourself," Frodo said.

"What chance do you think you have?" Boromir asked. "They will find you, they will take the Ring, and you will beg for death before the end."

Frodo did not speak and turned away from Boromir. Boromir face twisted in anger as he advanced on Frodo.

"Fool! It is not your say by unhappy chance. It could've been mine! It should be mine! Give it to me!" Boromir shouted.

"No!" Frodo cried.

Boromir was on top of Frodo, struggling to take the Ring from the Hobbits grasp. Fiercely, Boromir wrestled for the Ring, but the Hobbit was quick. Frodo slipped the Ring from its chain onto his finger and disappeared.

"I see your mind! You will take the Ring to Sauron! You will betray us! Curse you, curse you! And all the Halflings!" Boromir shouted.

Boromir tripped and fell into a heap. It was then that his sudden madness was lifted, as if it were fog. Boromir looked up in horror to find Frodo was no where to be found. He was ashamed of himself for letting madness overcome him.

"What have I done? Please, Frodo," Boromir said sorrowfully. "Frodo, I'm sorry! Frodo, come back!"

Boromir got to his feet to find Frodo, but just as he rose, an arrow flew past his head, burying itself in a tree. Boromir turned to find the same creatures who had attacked Pharazphel. The Uruk-Hai, bearing the White Hand of the traitor Saruman. Boromir threw a knife at an Uruk-Hai. The knife buried itself in the Uruk's neck. Boromir ran forward and retrieved the knife. He had to find the Hobbits and the rest of the Company before it was too late.

Boromir slashed and parried his way through the army of Uruk-Hai.

"Find the Halflings!" shouted the Uruk-Hai.

Boromir stabbed an Uruk and continued to run. He hoped that he had not run out of time. He hoped that the Uruks would not find Frodo, especially after what he had done to the Hobbit.

Boromir continued to run and engage the Uruk-Hai as he ran through the forest, searching for the Hobbits. Just then, he heard the clear voices of Merry and Pippin and his heart lifted. Boromir flew through the woods, knowing he was closer to finding the two Halflings. He found Merry and Pippin in the middle of a swarm of Uruks. One Uruk-Hai was flying toward them, an ax raised to kill. Boromir jumped between the creature and the Hobbits and brought it down. Merry and Pippin fought beside Boromir, stabbing Uruk-Hai and throwing rocks at them. Boromir brought the Horn of Gondor to his lips and sounded the horn three times, hoping the Company would come. Boromir threw another knife at an Uruk and slashed another. Again and again Boromir called for the Company with his horn. Alas, no one came, save for more Uruk-Hai. Merry and Pippin jumped on top of an Uruk, stabbing it several times until the creature fell.

"Run! Run!" Boromir cried.

Boromir ran behind Merry and Pippin as he continued to engage more of Saruman's hordes. The Hobbits threw rocks at the Uruk-Hai as Boromir brought down one after another. Suddenly, an arrow lodged itself into Boromir's shoulder. Boromir drew back in surprise. He fell to his knees in pain as Merry and Pippin looked on in horror. Boromir jumped back to his feet and continued to battle more Uruk-Hai that engaged him. Boromir turned to late to find another arrow that lodged into his left shoulder, sending Boromir to his knees again. Boromir was in terrible pain, but he could not falter. He looked at Merry and Pippin and knew he had to go on.

_I cannot fail, _he thought. _I must save the Hobbits. I must return to Pharazphel and our child._

Spurred on by his promise, Boromir battled on. He slashed an Uruk-Hai across the belly. He parried a blow from another and stabbed it. His enemies were gathered in a pile around him. Boromir's horn was now cloven in two. Another arrow lodged itself into his leg, bringing Boromir to his knees one last time. Merry and Pippin drew their swords to defend their fallen friend, but to no avail. As they charged forward, they were snatched by the Uruk-Hai and carried away. Boromir could only watch as the Hobbits were carried off. The large Uruk-Hai notched another bow, prepared to deliver a killing blow. Before he could fire the fatal shot, Aragorn leaped on top of him.

Aragorn tackled the creature and wrestled the bow away. The Uruk threw Aragorn and trapped him against a tree with his shield. Aragorn escaped the shield and parried with the Uruk. The Uruk picked him up by his shirt and head-butted him. Aragorn kicked the Uruk and stabbed his knife into its knee. The Uruk growled as it drew the blade from its leg. It licked the blood away before throwing the knife at Aragorn, who blocked it with his sword. Aragorn slashed and parried with the Uruk until he cut off its left arm and stabbed it. The Uruk looked down in surprise before leaning in closer to give one final growl. Aragorn drew his mighty sword and beheaded the Uruk-Hai, sending it crumbling to the ground.

Aragorn ran forward and saw Boromir laying against a tree, his enemies piled at his feet.

"They took the little ones!" Boromir cried.

"Hold still!" Aragorn said.

"Frodo, where is Frodo?" Boromir asked.

Aragorn paused and then spoke. "I let Frodo go."

"Then you did what I could not. I tried to take the Ring from him," Boromir said.

"The Ring is beyond our reach now," Aragorn told him.

"Forgive me. I did not see. I have failed you all," Boromir said.

"No, Boromir," Aragorn whispered. "You fought bravely. You have kept your honor."

Aragorn tried to remove the arrows, but Boromir pushed his hand away. "Leave it! It is over. The world of Men will fall, and all will come to darkness. My city to ruin."

"No!" Aragorn said. "I do not know what strength is in my blood, but I swear to you I will not let the White City fall nor our people fail. But you will not die here. You must return to Minas Tirith, to your wife and child."

"I have failed them both," Boromir said.

"You have not," Aragorn said. "You will return to them, and you will see the White City again. Hold still."

Aragorn pulled the arrows free, one by one. Boromir cried out as he did. Aragorn turned to find Legolas and Gimli behind him.

"Legolas, Gimli, light me a fire. We must burn his wounds closed," Aragorn said.

As fast as they could, Legolas and Gimli drew up a small fire. Aragorn heated his sword until it glowed.

"Brace yourself, my friend," he said.

He placed the heated sword to Boromir's wounds as Boromir screamed. The wounds sizzled against the heat of the blade. Aragorn bound Boromir's shoulders and leg as Legolas approached him.

"Frodo and Sam have reached the Eastern Shore," Legolas said.

Aragorn did not move. He wanted to follow Frodo into the fires of Mordor, but he could not abandon Boromir, Merry, and Pippin.

"You mean not to follow them?" Legolas asked.

"It is clear that Frodo's fate is no longer in our hands," Aragorn said.

"Aragorn, you cannot linger. You must find the little ones," Boromir said weakly.

"But I cannot abandon you to your death," Aragorn said.

"You must find the Hobbits," Boromir said. "Go. Leave me. You cannot linger for me any longer. Take my horn and cast it down the river. Go now."

Aragorn knelt by Boromir and kissed his head. "May you be protected by the Men of Numenor, son of Gondor," Aragorn said.

Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli retreated to the boats where they cast aside all they could spare, as they needed to travel light. As Boromir requested, Aragorn sent his horn down the river. He feared that would be his final promise to Boromir.

"We must find Merry and Pippin. We cannot abandon them to torment and death," Aragorn said. "Come! We have not much time. We shall be the Three Hunters and we will find Merry and Pippin. Let's hunt some Orc."

Aragorn dashed off into the forest. Legolas and Gimli followed after him. They were the Three Hunters, and they would go on to be a marvel among their kin.

Three days passed, Osgiliath was now being partly held by the Enemies of Mordor. Faramir continued to drive the Enemy back, but he knew they were biding their time until Gondor was at its weakest. Faramir had gone down to the River Anduin at dawn that day. It was there that he found something strange floating in the river. Faramir waded in the water and retrieved Boromir's broken horn. Faramir drew back in horror as he took the horn that was cloven in two. He paled as he looked at the horn. Tears fell from his eyes as he held the horn.

_How can this be? _He asked in shock.

Faramir then thought of Pharazphel waiting in the Houses of Healing. Although he feared to, he knew that she must know that Boromir had fallen. Faramir jumped upon his steed and raced back to Minas Tirith. He hurried into the Houses of Healing to find Pharazphel. Faramir did not wish to bring her pain, but he could not let her suffer in ignorance when Boromir did not return.

"Faramir!" Pharazphel greeted him warmly. "The child wants to come out soon. He is being very stubborn today."

Pharazphel was perturbed when Faramir did not smile. "Faramir? What is wrong?"

"I have tidings, Pharazphel," Faramir said. "I was wading on the River Anduin when I found something in the water."

"What have you found that makes you so gloomy?" Pharazphel asked.

Faramir showed her Boromir's broken horn. Pharazphel paled and trembled, hoping what she feared was not true.

"I do not know how this came to be, but I fear what it means," Faramir said sadly.

"No!" Pharazphel said.

"I'm afraid that Boromir is dead," Faramir said.

All of the color faded from Pharazphel's face as she looked at the broken horn. Boromir promised her that he would return to her and their child. She trembled as she knew now that Boromir would never return. Pharazphel screamed in agony, as if she had a blade stabbed through her heart.

Faramir embraced Pharazphel, sharing in her pain. He wished he could cry out as she did, but he could not. He had to honor his promise to Boromir and give Pharazphel hope. Suddenly, Pharazphel winced, and tightened her grasp on Faramir.

"Pharazphel, what is it?" Faramir asked.

"The child is being very stubborn," Pharazphel said.

Pharazphel cried out in pain, gripping Faramir's hand. Pharazphel was overcome by pain as she clutched her bulging stomach and fought to speak through her pain.

"Faramir, find Ioreth," Pharazphel said weakly.

"What is the matter, Pharazphel?" Faramir asked.

"The baby! The baby is coming!" Pharazphel screamed.

Without another word, Faramir sprinted through the House of Healing to find Ioreth.

He found the old healer tending a wounded soldier. "Ioreth! Lady Pharazphel needs you. The baby is coming!"

Ioreth followed Faramir and raced back to Pharazphel's bed. Pharazphel was writhing on the bed, and her screams filled the room. Sweat fell from her brow as her golden hair was matted to her head. Healers gathered around Pharazphel, preparing towels and hot water. Another gathered pillows and laid them behind Pharazphel.

"Captain Faramir, leave us," Ioreth said.

"I must not, Ioreth," Faramir said. "I promised my brother to look after Pharazphel and the child."

"You have kept your promise. You must leave us. Go!" Ioreth said.

Faramir could still hear the heartbreaking cries of Pharazphel as she labored on. Even as Ioreth closed the door, he could still hear Pharazphel wailing. With his brother gone, it was bittersweet that the child was coming. He only hoped that Pharazphel would have the strength to overcome her pain.

**A/N: Dun dun dun! I had to leave it on a cliffhanger. Thank you for all of the support as I write this story. I appreciate it very much. Happy Reading! **


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